Left for Dead
by Sonosublime
Summary: A novelisation based on the video-game series. Bill, a seasoned war veteran. Zoey, a preppy college student. Louis, an over-positive office worker. Francis, a cocky biker. Four very different people must learn to trust each other for their very survival. Part V: Blood Harvest
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

><p><em>TWO WEEKS AFTER FIRST INFECTION...<em>

As night fell over the city of Fairfield, the carnage in the streets continued. The sound of sirens, screams and howling echoed in the air. Rubble, wrecked cars and corpses littered the streets, painting the grim picture of great catastrophe.

Four survivors moved silently through the alleyway, alert and cautious, training their guns on anything that moved.

Bill, the leader of the group, was an old but sturdy war veteran, evident from the army fatigues that he wore, and the professionalism with which he handled his M-16 assault rifle. A smoking cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth, illuminating his wiry bearded face and the green beret donning his greying hair.

Following closely behind Bill was Zoey, a petite, young brunette woman. She wore a white vest, bright red track jacket with white stripes running down the sides, faded jeans and black and white sneakers. Her cautious green eyes scanned the area for any signs of danger, her ponytail sweeping through the air. She held an M1911 pistol in front of her with one hand, while her other hand grasped a flashlight, lighting up the group's path.

Louis walked next to Zoey, holding a Uzi close to his side. The submachine gun was in stark contrast to the office attire of the thin, black and head-shaved young man; a white collared button-up shirt, business slacks and a red tie hanging loosely around his neck.

Bringing up the rear was Francis, a stocky biker whose image was bolstered by his black vest, tattooed arms and buzz-cut. He brandished a large pump-action shotgun, cursing under his breath. What he thought of the man leading their expedition would have made Bill less than happy to know.

"Why are we going this way, anyway?" the biker asked sourly. "We should stick to the streets; we have a better chance of being spotted by the rescue choppers."

Bill scowled, as he did every time Francis challenged him. "It's a slaughterhouse, son. Too open. And even if a helicopter did spot us, the streets are too hot for them to land. Our best bet is to get to a rooftop."

Francis grumbled once more under his breath, but he knew when he was beaten. Everyone was going to stick with the experienced Vietnam veteran, of course. He reached into his backpack for a candy-bar, but scowled when he realised that he had run out. The bag was becoming alarmingly empty of supplies. He looked over at Zoey, who was carrying the only other backpack in the group.

"You got any food?"

"Only some canned stuff left," she said regretfully.

Suddenly, Bill noticed something on the floor of the alley. He held up his right palm. "Hold up." He bent down and prodded at a puddle of green slime. "Ain't seen anything like this before."

Francis looked down at the fetid puddle and felt his appetite evaporate. "Jesus," he spat, repulsed. "Don't let that _stop_ you from smearin' it all _over_ yourself!"

Bill turned his head toward him, scowling once more. He collected his rifle and stood, wiping his fingers on Francis' vest while the latter's attention was diverted by a distant scream.

"The Infected. They're changing." The war veteran moved off further down the alley.

"GODDAMN IT, BILL!" Francis roared. He sniffed at the putrid green stain the older man had left on his clothes and recoiled in disgust. "UGH, THAT STINKS!" He took a deep breath and somewhat regained his composure. "You'd better hope that washes out," he growled.

Louis could not help but chuckle at the situation. Suddenly, another, most unexpected sound pierced the night. Loud, tortured sobbing drifted from somewhere nearby. Bill looked over at the others, and then located the source of the noise. The crying was coming from behind a metal door built into the brick wall of the alleyway.

Zoey looked at the door in surprise. "There's someone still alive," she said hopefully.

Bill glanced at Louis, who nodded his approval silently. He and Zoey then took up positions outside the door. The older man slowly turned the knob and cautiously pushed the door open, and then they both pointed their weapons into the pitch blackness inside. The bitter and tortured crying continued, louder than before.

Bill nodded into the darkness. "Over there," he whispered, his voice echoing throughout the dark room.

Zoey promptly switched on her flashlight again, the cone of light illuminating a small portion of the room. However, the source of the crying was obscured by a large desk in the way. Bill slowly crept forward into the room, crouched down, gun held out in front. Zoey followed him, her flashlight and pistol trained toward the desk.

"Hello?" she called. "Hello?" However, she received no response.

As they came around the desk, they caught glimpses of the figure. It was an extremely thin woman, sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor. Her head was tilted forward, causing her long, knotted hair to fall over her face. Her entire body heaved as she sobbed. Zoey noticed several bloodstains on the ground and wall.

"It's okay," she began. "We're going to – "

A loud rumble of thunder came from outside, and a flash of lightning momentarily lit up the room. To her horror, she saw that the bloodstains she had seen earlier belonged to several mutilated corpses up against the far wall.

The flash of lightning lit up the figure sitting on the floor, showing that it was definitely NOT human. The figure had white, knotted hair, greying skin and long red claws folded in its lap.

However, before Zoey's flashlight could illuminate the figure's face, Bill's hand came up, pushing it back down.

"Lights OFF," he hissed.

Zoey quickly complied, and fortunately, the woman ignored them and continued to weep.

* * *

><p>Francis and Louis stood guard outside the door in a rather uncomfortable silence.<p>

"What do you think is taking them so long?" he asked presently.

Francis grunted. "Do _you_ wanna go in there and ask 'em?"

Before the other man could reply, a loud snarl from back down the alleyway caught their attention. He turned to see a large crowd of people running toward them. However, these people had long lost all vestiges of their humanity. They were now Infected; extremely aggressive and mindless animals, victims of the virus that had recently developed suddenly and without warning throughout Pennsylvania. The effects of the so-called 'Green Flu' were devastating. Entire cities had already been lost, and Fairfield was about to become one of them.

"Oh, shit," Louis breathed, as his compatriot began to fire his shotgun. "_Shit._ SHIT. SHIT!"

As Francis continued shooting, Louis ran into the doorway to see Zoey and Bill kneeling down next to a woman.

"They're coming!" he yelled as he brought his flashlight to bear on the three figures. It was then that he saw the hideous figure in the full light."What the – "

The gangly woman snapped her head up to face him, her eyes gleaming a sinister red. She stood up and let out a bone-chilling scream, causing Louis to cry out in shock and fear.

"RUN LIKE HELL!" Zoey screamed, and the three of them ran for the door, with the hideous woman in hot pursuit.

They barrelled out of the door, and Louis slammed it shut, leaning against it to stop the infected woman from following them. He heard a loud _THUMP_, and a dent appeared in the metal door. Another _THUMP_ and dent followed. A second later, with a terrible ripping sound, one of the woman's clawed arms tore through the door. It began to flail wildly, searching for a victim. Louis shouted in shock, and unloaded his Uzi into the long, gangly appendage, causing it to reach for him.

"DO YOU LIKE THAT?" he yelled and continued shooting the arm, which eventually retracted back into the darkness.

Meanwhile, Zoey, Bill and Francis opened fire on the mob rushing toward them. Bodies tumbled and fell over each other as blood spurted into the air. Soon thereafter, the last Infected toppled to the ground, and the sound of gunfire ceased, leaving a tense silence in its wake. Louis cocked his head to the sky when he heard the whir of helicopter blades.

"D'you hear that?" he cried excitedly.

A searchlight beam swept through the alleyway as a helicopter flew overhead, blaring something through a loudspeaker.

"HEY!" Louis yelled, running down the alley and waving his arms. "WAIT UP!"

"Louis, stop!" Zoey called, but he did not hear her. She quickly ran after him before Bill or Francis could object.

No one saw the dark figure stalking Louis from the rooftops. Another bolt of lightning flashed overhead.

"HEEEEEEY!" Louis screamed, running out into the street after the helicopter. "WE'RE DOWN HERE!" If the helicopter pilot noticed the desperate bid for his attention, he did not show it. "WE'RE NOT INFECTED!" the former business man yelled, his voice cracking.

As the helicopter flew away into the distance, Louis was able to make out some of the words coming from the loudspeaker. _"If there are any survivors down there, make your way to Mercy Hospital for evacuation."_

He cursed his bad luck, not noticing the dark figure hanging down from the rooftop behind, eyeing him down hungrily. With an ear-splitting scream, it _pounced_ with incredible speed and agility. It _slammed_ into its prey and pinned him to the road, slashing at his chest mercilessly with its claws. Louis screamed in shock and pain.

Suddenly, Zoey threw herself into the figure from the side, knocking it away from her compatriot. She stumbled to one knee, and brought her pistol to bear as the hooded figure turned back toward her. She fired a shot, hitting it in the shoulder. It recoiled from the impact, roaring in anger. It prepared to pounce once more, but Zoey shot it again, hitting it in the stomach. She fired another shot, but the infected creature was too fast. It jumped away across the street with awe-dropping speed and disappeared into a dark alleyway.

However, Zoey's stray bullet slammed into a car, triggering the alarm. The mostly-silent street echoed with the piercing klaxon. As the alarm screeched, a bloodthirsty chorus of howling and screaming rose to meet it. Francis and Bill ran out of the alleyway into the street.

"Damn it!" he cursed furiously. "Who set off the car alarm?" He glared at Louis, who was being helped up by Zoey.

"Hey man! Don't look at me!" Louis cried defensively. "_She_ did it!"

Zoey's eyes narrowed. "I just saved your life. You're welcome!"

The deafening roar of the incoming horde grew louder. Lightning flashed across the sky again and momentarily showed countless shadows of people dancing across the buildings as they closed in on the four survivors.

"I know you meant well, kid," Bill said slowly. "But by saving this jackass, I think you've just invited every Infected in the city to dinner."

As if to prove his point, a huge crowd of infected people came running down the street and spilling out of doorways. A heavy rain began to fall at that moment, almost as if it was an omen of things to come. The four survivors immediately opened fire, taking down several Infected. But there were far too many for them to handle.

Zoey looked over her shoulder and her heart sank. "Bill! They're coming from the other direction too!"

"Let's move, people!" he ordered.

The group ran across the street toward another alleyway, firing as they ran. Louis was heavily injured, and had to be helped along by Bill. Meanwhile, the bloodthirsty horde ran after them. The group came to a fire-escape and Zoey and immediately began to scale the metal staircase. Francis, Bill and Louis turned back to see a solid wall of Infected rushing toward them. He fired off a quick burst from his Uzi, and then turned to be helped by Bill up the fire-escape.

The dark alley flashed as Francis fired off one shotgun round after another, exploding heads in showers of gore and making large, bloody holes in chests.

"Yeah!" he hollered. "Come and get some!"

"Francis, come on!" Zoey yelled from above him.

He turned to run up the fire-escape, but cried out in shock when he saw an infected man right behind him. Its mouth was open in a roar as it prepared to tear the biker's throat out. However, a hole appeared in the infected man's head, and he collapsed. Francis looked up to see Zoey standing above him on the fire-escape with a smoking pistol.

"GO!" she yelled. "I'll hold them off!" She continued to gun down Infected as Francis climbed the stairs.

He reached her, and they both turned and climbed up the rest of the fire-escape, with the infected crowd right behind them. They both tumbled onto the roof of the building and Zoey looked back to see Bill casually toss a grenade over his shoulder onto the fire-escape. It tumbled down a few steps, and then exploded, sending up a spray of blood. The fire-escape screeched and groaned horrendously. It soon tore away from the building completely and fell back into the alley, crushing a large amount of infected people who happened to be below it. A cloud of dust and debris rose into the air as relative silence descended once more.

Zoey collapsed to all fours, struggling to catch her breath, while Francis and Louis sat down at the edge of the roof.

He started to laugh, but it just caused the injuries that he had sustained to hurt even more. Instead he just smiled. "We made it... I can't believe we made it!"

"Son, we just crossed the street," Bill said. He was sitting down on a step with his back to the rest of the group as he cupped his hands to his mouth to light up another cigarette. "Let's not throw a party 'till we're outta the city."

He stood up and walked over to the far edge of the roof. Francis joined him and they looked out over the city, being laid to waste by its own frenzied citizens. Fires and smoke could be seen in every direction, and the air echoed with the sound of howling. The city was never free of the howling.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Well, I was introduced to Left 4 Dead fairly recently, and it has rapidly become one of my favourite games. So I have decided to attempt a novelisation centralising around the original survivors.

I understand that my Prologue was just a rehash of the intro movie, but it WAS a pretty badass intro. In future chapters, I won't be following the character dialogue word-for-word, so don't worry.

This story is interesting for me because it's my first attempt at writing horror. I am going to do my best to build up tension and suspense, and actually make this story scary to read. So, if anyone has any tips on how to write a good and suspenseful horror story, please comment and let me know.

Also, reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.


	2. NO MERCY: Chapter 1: The Apartments

**Part I: No Mercy**

"_Curing the infection... one bullet at a time."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: The Apartments<strong>

* * *

><p>Lightning flashed again as the rain continued to fall over the city of Fairfield, soaking the four survivors.<p>

"Damn it!" Zoey cursed. She pointed across the roof to the stairwell doorway. "Let's get inside before we freeze to death."

"Do you mean _before_ or _after_ the Infected tear us limb from limb?" Francis remarked sarcastically.

The former college student ignored him and helped Louis to his feet. Bill came over and draped Louis' other arm over his shoulder, and the group made their way across the rooftop to the door. Zoey tried to open it, but it was locked.

Francis stepped forward. "Allow me."

He pointed his shotgun at the doorknob and fired, blasting a large hole in the door in a flash of light and flying wooden splinters. He pushed the door open roughly, and the others made their way into the murky stairwell, gently lowering Louis down onto the steps.

"Ah, shit, that hurts," he groaned.

"You shouldn't have run off on your own like that," Zoey said pointedly. "That thing would have killed you."

"Hey, I managed to catch some valuable information," he replied defensively. "I heard the helicopter pilot saying over his loudspeaker for any survivors to get to Mercy Hospital. They're evacuating people from there."

"Mercy Hospital, huh?" Bill grunted. "That sounds like our best bet."

"Question is; how are we going to get there?"

However, Bill now had the time to get a good look at Louis' injuries. "You look pretty torn up, son," he said. "Let me have a look."

Zoey suddenly realised how red and bloodstained Louis' shirt was. "Oh, shit..."

Bill knelt down, grabbed Louis' red-soaked shirt and tore it open. There was blood everywhere. Zoey cupped her hands to her mouth in horror, while Francis grunted in annoyance.

"How bad is it?" Louis asked timidly.

"…I can't tell," the old veteran said, keeping his expression guarded. He turned his head to the others. "I need some water to clean the wounds to get a better look. Zoey, you stay here with him. See if you can wrap his shirt around his chest to slow the bleeding." She nodded silently. "Francis, you come with me downstairs. We need to find a bucket or something."

The man in question glared back in silence.

Bill narrowed his eyes. "Is there a problem?"

It took a moment for Francis to respond. "Nope." With that, he hefted his shotgun, turned and walked away down the stairs.

Bill sighed and stood up, turning to the others again. "Stay sharp." He turned to follow Francis downstairs.

"Bill, wait," Zoey said suddenly.

He turned back to her. "What is it?"

"Before, you said that the Infected were... changing."

He nodded slowly. "Why? What did you see?"

"The thing that attacked Louis, it wasn't like the Common Infected. I've never seen anything like it before. It was super fast. And it jumped Louis from about twenty metres away."

"The son of a bitch had claws too," Louis said, pointing down at his bloody chest.

"Hm, that _is_ something," Bill remarked. He did _not_ like the sound of this.

"I didn't kill it," Zoey continued worriedly. "I shot at it a few times, but it got away."

"Don't worry, kid," he said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "If it shows up again, it won't be getting away this time."

* * *

><p>Bill and Francis moved silently down the stairs, guns held out in front, flashlights on. The building was absolutely silent, save for the occasional dripping of water overhead.<p>

"Through here," Bill whispered over his shoulder, moving through a doorway into a hallway.

It was completely dark. The weary combatants shone their flashlights down the hallway and saw, to their satisfaction, that it was empty. Bill crept up to the nearest door and tried it to find that it was locked. He walked over to the next door to find, to his frustration, that it too was locked. He was about to move on when Francis moved forward without warning and kicked the door open.

"What the hell – " Bill cried out in shock. He turned to glare at Francis angrily. "Are you tryin' to get us both killed?"

"We needed to get inside," he replied casually. "So unless you want to play Musical Doors all night, let's go."

Bill marched right up to him. "You could have alerted any Infected nearby. So, the next time you're about to do something like that, _don't_."

Francis did not reply. He stared Bill down, their faces inches apart. The tension between the two hardened men appeared to be at breaking point. They broke apart when their attention was momentarily diverted by the sound of a crashing car from somewhere outside.

Bill turned to move into the apartment. "By the way, it's Musical _Chairs_, moron," he said over his shoulder, and then continued through the doorway.

Francis rolled his eyes and started to follow him. However, he heard the soft sound of pattering feet coming from somewhere down the hall. He quickly aimed his flashlight down the hallway, but there was nothing to be seen. However Francis could not shake the bad feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. Unbeknown to Bill, he moved off down the hall to investigate the sound. As he advanced down the hallway, he did not see the dark figure behind him creep into the apartment after Bill.


	3. Chapter 2: Contact

**Chapter 2: Contact**

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling?" Zoey asked worriedly.<p>

"Like I've been dragged over a bed of nails," Louis groaned.

Zoey was wrapping his ruined shirt around his chest as tightly as she could. However, she stopped when she heard him inhale sharply from the pain.

"Sorry..." she mumbled apologetically, and loosened the bandaging slightly.

She finished tying the shirt around Louis' chest and then looked down at her bloodstained hands, before wiping them on his shirt.

"Hey, do I look like a dish cloth to you?" he said jokingly.

Zoey tried to chuckle, but she was seriously worried. Bill and Francis were both downstairs, and they could be in danger. And Louis' injuries looked bad enough.

"Is there anything else I can do to help?"

He smiled encouragingly. "Nah. It can only get better, right?"

Zoey chose not to answer. Unless he got medical attention soon, it could only get worse.

* * *

><p>Bill moved silently through the apartment, sweeping his flashlight through the rooms, searching for any signs of danger. He was not aware that Francis was not watching his back. Something else was.<p>

He stealthily moved toward the bathroom and found what he was looking for; a discarded bucket lying on its side on the floor.

* * *

><p>Francis slowly walked down the hall in the direction that he heard the sound of pattering feet earlier. His ear was cocked for any more noises. However, save for his heavy footsteps, there was not a sound to be heard. He cautiously walked forward a few more steps when he heard the sound of pattering feet again, this time from <em>behind<em> him. He quickly whirled around, but his flashlight revealed nothing.

Francis took a careful step back down the hall back toward the apartment that Bill had entered. He took another step when, most inexplicably, he heard _another_ footstep on the _other_ side of the wall that he was next to. It came from inside the adjacent apartment on his right. He stopped and listened. Silence.

He took another step, and then he heard his footsteps being mirrored again from behind the wall.

"Son of a bitch," Francis growled. Was the bastard playing mind games with him?

He quickly marched the short distance down the hallway up to the door of the apartment, all the while hearing the thing on the other side of the wall mimicking his movements. He squared his shoulders, readied his shotgun, and then kicked the door open, aiming his shotgun and flashlight inside. However, he was shocked to see no one there.

Suddenly –

_** "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

A dreadful scream came from behind him, followed by a terrible crash. Francis whipped around to see an infected woman come tearing out of the doorway behind him; arms held forward, lips curled upward in an ugly snarl.

Francis did not hesitate and pulled the trigger, blasting the woman in the chest and sending her flying back through the doorway. Immediately after, he felt ice-cold arms wrapping themselves around him from behind. An infected man had snuck up on him. The shotgun clattered to the ground.

* * *

><p>Bill's head shot up in shock when he heard the shotgun go off out in the hallway.<p>

"Damn it – " he started to curse, but he was cut off.

_** "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"**_

Bill looked behind him to see a dark shape rushing toward him. He did not have time to aim his assault rifle, so instead he swung the rifle butt and struck his attacker in the face. The infected man stumbled backward a few feet and looked up to see Bill aiming his rifle at him. The man opened his mouth to roar, but never got the chance. Bill shot him through the head, blood and brain matter splattering on the wall behind his crumpled body.

* * *

><p>Francis wrestled desperately with his attacker, who had wrapped himself firmly around his back. He glanced back to see the other man bear his teeth, ready to bite into his neck.<p>

"NO!" Francis cried, throwing himself backward into a wall, slamming the man against it.

Nothing happened, so he threw himself against the wall again. This time, the man's grip loosened slightly, and Francis took the opportunity to throw him off. Falling to one knee, Francis quickly scooped up his shotgun and took aim. However, before he could get the shot off, gunfire erupted behind him, and the man fell in a bloody heap.

Francis looked back to see Bill standing further down the hallway, his smoking M-16 raised to his shoulder. The old veteran lowered the rifle and gave Francis a death glare, which the latter ignored. He picked himself up off the ground and brushed himself off.

"Phew!" he breathed. "Good thing I'm indestructible." He turned back toward Bill, but was taken aback to see the old man aiming the rifle at _him_.

"Next time you wander off and leave me in the lurch like that, you end up like him." Bill jerked his head behind Francis at the dead body lying in the hallway.

The arrogant biker was about to retort angrily, but he stopped himself when he looked into Bill's eyes. The look that he was being given was that of a man not to be messed with. Instead, he just nodded silently.

* * *

><p>Bill and Francis walked back up the stairs together in a tense silence. Bill had managed to scrounge a red medical pack from the bathroom, which was now slung across his back, while Francis carried a full bucket of water with one hand and hefted his shotgun over his shoulder with the other.<p>

"Bill, you were in the army, right?" he asked presently.

"Yeah?" the older man replied cautiously.

"So I _know_ that _you_ know a death-wound when you see one."

Bill said nothing, keeping his expression guarded. If this was going where he thought it was…

Francis pointed down at his biker vest. "My gang, we were a pretty notorious bunch. We had a lot of enemies. And I've seen my fair share of fucked-up injuries." He stopped and turned to face his partner. "You _know_ that this is a waste of time. Louis is dead weight. _And _a ticking time-bomb! We bring him with us, we're all going to die."

"Don't give me that horseshit!" Bill snapped suddenly.

Further up the stairwell, Zoey raised her head hopefully when she realised that she could make out his voice. _Thank god they came back!_

Francis glowered angrily. "Louis has been _slashed_! He's infec – "

Bill turned and rounded on him, his voice low and dangerous. "Listen to me, son, and listen well. War is hell. It lacks humanity. But it has _rules_. And the most important one is that _no one gets left behind_." He snatched the bucket out of Francis' hands and continued up the stairs without another word.

Francis stood and stared after him in surprise for a moment, and then followed, shaking his head.

Bill stormed up the staircase fuming. _The nerve of that punk._

"Bill!" Zoey cried out when he came into view. "Thank god you're okay!" There was a moment of silence. "Where's Francis?"

"On his way up," he grunted. He bent down to examine to her job. "Nice work, kid."

He drew a dull-looking knife and sawed through the rest of the shirt, revealing Louis' chest again as Francis came into view.

"This might sting a bit," he said to Louis.

He then began to pour water over Louis' chest. The younger man gasped in pain as his blood flowed away down the stairs, revealing the ugly slashes in his chest. Zoey gasped while Bill reached for some disinfectant and wrapping from the first-aid kit.

Francis leaned toward Zoey. "Hey, can I talk to you outside for a sec?" he asked softly.

She was shocked. In the short time that they had known each other, Francis had barely paid her a second glance. "Uh, sure," she said, following him out onto the roof.

Bill took in the extent of Louis' injuries as he worked. "You're cut up badly. I'll do what I can, but you've already lost a lot of blood. Not to mention that the wounds could get infected, or sepsis could come into play. We'll need an actual doctor if _that_ happens."

"You should probably work on your bedside manner," the younger man said in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"I ain't gonna sugar-coat it, son. If you don't get help soon, you could be in a lot of trouble."

* * *

><p>Outside on the roof, aside from a light drizzle, the rain had stopped. Francis walked ahead for a little bit, and then turned to face Zoey, out of earshot of the door.<p>

"Listen, uh..."

"Zoey," she replied.

"Right. Sorry."

"That's okay. I guess it's just girls' names that you have trouble remembering, right?" she said sarcastically.

Francis ignored that last comment. "Look, Louis is screwed. He's going to bring us nothing but trouble. If we stick around with him, we're done. We've gotta think of the bigger picture here."

Zoey was appalled at Francis' callousness. She struggled with her next words.

"You know I'm right, don't you?" he persisted.

Zoey paused, looking back at the stairwell for a moment. "No one left behind, right?" she finally said, repeating Bill's words from earlier. She turned and walked back into the building, leaving Francis alone on the rooftop.


	4. Chapter 3: Infected

**Chapter 3: Infected**

* * *

><p>A little while later, Louis' chest was wrapped in white bandages. With help from Bill, he stood up and walked down the stairwell.<p>

Bill slung the medical pack over his back and picked up Zoey's crumpled backpack, frowning as he handed it to her. "Why's it so light? I thought we had more food in here."

The former student shook her head worriedly. "We're running low on supplies."

"The situation any better with _your_ backpack, Francis?"

"There's sweet F-A left in here," he replied.

No one had anything to say to the troubling news as they made their way carefully down the stairs.

"Hold up," Louis piped up as the party passed by the apartment from before. "I gotta find me a new shirt."

"I think we've got more pressing matters at hand," Bill replied.

"It'll only take a second," he insisted, disappearing into the doorway.

Zoey followed him through the dark apartment into the master bedroom and watched in silence as he rummaged through the closet.

"Here we go!" Louis cried cheerfully, pulling on a white collared shirt, similar to the one that was now lying in bloody pieces on the stairwell.

"Great," she said. "Now can we go? This place gives me the creeps."

"Sure, just got to grab one more thing..." Louis replied, shuffling toward the bathroom.

"What the hell are you doing?" Zoey sighed in exasperation.

"I just gotta see... Oh, man, I hope they have some..." the ex-business man said over his shoulder.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Zoey followed him into the bathroom to see him rummaging through the cabinet behind the sink mirror.

"Ah, ha!" he cried triumphantly, turning and holding up a bottle of pain pills. "Grabbin' pills."

She could not help but chuckle as she followed Louis out of the bathroom. However, the momentary mood-lift was shattered when they found themselves staring down the barrel of Francis' shotgun.

"What the hell?" Louis cried out.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Francis, what are you doing?" Zoey demanded, still not believing what she was seeing. "Put the gun down!"

"I didn't want it to come to this," the biker continued, keeping his voice controlled. "But you're infected. You're a danger to the rest of us."

"I'm NOT infected!" Louis cried in disbelief. "Please, let me explain!"

"Bill!" Zoey cried when the older man entered the room. "Do something!"

However, she was shocked when he just shook his head. "Francis and I have been talking, Zoey, and he brought up a valid point. Louis _was_ clawed up. It could be in his system."

"Let me explain! I'm _not_ infected!" Louis pleaded. "I'm immune! I've been bitten before!"

"Hmph," Francis snorted derisively. "You must be gettin' pretty desperate if you expect us to believe that."

"I can _prove_ it!" the anxious man exclaimed, pulling up one of the sleeves on his new shirt. "There! Look!"

The others looked down to see a bite mark still visible on his forearm. The wound had obviously been quite nasty when he had first received it, but now it was healing up pretty nicely.

"...What are you saying?" Bill finally said after a prolonged silence.

"I'm saying that I got this bite almost _two weeks_ ago, but I'm still human!"

"Alright, that's enough!" Zoey exclaimed, drawing a pistol and pointing it at the burly biker. "Put the gun down _now_, Francis!"

"_No!_" he roared. "He's infected! He has to – "

He never got the chance to finish his sentence. He felt the butt of Bill's rifle slamming into his head from the side, and then everything went dark.

* * *

><p>Francis groggily awoke to find himself sitting in a dining room chair in the dark, ruined apartment. He tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through his head. It took him a moment to comprehend that his hands were tied behind his back. He tried to move his feet, but discovered that his ankles had also been bound together. He focused his eyes and saw Zoey, Bill and Louis standing a few feet away, conversing quietly.<p>

"What the hell is this?" he growled. "Let me up!"

The other three turned when he spoke. Zoey came over and leaned forward. "We're sorry we had to do this, Francis. But you were out of control. You were going to kill Louis. We had to – "

"Shut up, bitch!" he spat angrily.

She was taken aback by his blunt response, and Bill cut in. "That's enough. We've been talking to Louis, and I think it's safe to say that he isn't going to be trying to eat us anytime soon."

Francis was too busy struggling with his bindings to answer.

"Listen, Francis," Louis said, coming over. "Before I met you three, I was with another group of people for a little while. Instead of heading for an evacuation zone, we holed up. They thought they could wait it out." He shot a sideways glance at his companions. "They couldn't."

"I'm NOT in the mood for sob stories!" the burly biker roared.

"Shut up!" Bill snapped suddenly. The force of his tone prompted everyone to go silent and look at him. "The Infected are attracted to _noise,_ geniuses. So, Francis, if you carry on shouting and making a racket, we're going to gag you and _leave you here._"

Although he doubted that they would actually leave him behind, he opted to remain quiet.

Bill turned to address Zoey quietly. "Go watch the front door, in case this moron brought company for us. You know what to do."

She nodded quickly, and then turned and disappeared through a doorway.

Louis, meanwhile, continued with his story. "As I was saying, one of the guys I holed up with was a doctor. He said he'd worked on a number of cases of the Green Flu, before the shit hit the fan." He pulled up his shirt-sleeve to show Francis his bite wound again. "I got this a few days before I met the doc. My first encounter with the Infected..."

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Thank you to everyone for the kind reviews so far! Reading them makes writing this story so much more enjoyable.

Oh, and I'll just say this now; credit for Louis' flashback in the next chapter goes to _The Sacrifice_ comic.

* * *

><p>FEEDBACK:<p>

LynxbyLynx:

C: hang on..Only common infected attacked them?

A: Yep. I'm trying to make them seem more dangerous.


	5. Chapter 4: Louis Recalls

**Chapter 4: Louis Recalls**

* * *

><p><em>PHILADELPHIA<em>

_TWO DAYS AFTER FIRST INFECTION..._

The late afternoon sun shone brightly over the city, streaming in through the wide windows of an office building. Louis stood in front of the window, talking on his mobile phone in an agitated voice.

"Ray, how many times I gotta tell you? Everything is gonna be _just fine, _man. So please do not tell me you are calling in sick again."

_"No, I'm calling in _well_, Lou. And I plan to keep it that way,"_ the voice on the other side of the line said firmly.

"For God's sake, Ray..." Louis started, but Ray cut him off.

_"Lou, look, no offence. Normally, I love your 'glass half-full' attitude. It's got us through some tough times, alright? But this time, I swear to God, the glass is_ definitely one-hundred percent half-empty. _ And the other half is... I dunno, full of piss."_

"Come into work, Ray," Louis persisted.

_"No, Louis! People are _dying_! I'm not gonna get infected just to keep Franklin Brothers' bullshit database running!"_

"Ray, you're not gonna get infected. There's barely anyone here! There are more infected people in your condo."

_"Whatever,"_ the cell-phone blared. _"I don't know if you looked out the window, but it's like the _end of the world_ out there."_

"Okay, okay. But, thought-exercise, alright? What if it's _not_?" Louis said, putting on his best thought-provoking tone as he headed toward the male restroom. "What if this 'Green Flu' burns itself out in a week? What if everybody got all excited for nothing, and the only two guys who stayed calm and kept this place _running_ was you and me? You know what we're gonna _get_ for that?" He paused to let his fool-proof argument sink in.

The phone was silent for a moment, before the response came. _"Infected."_

Louis sighed irritably. "Come into work, Ray," he persisted, reaching the bathroom and pushing the door open. "Trust me. I got a _good_ feeling about this."

However, it was too late; Ray had already disconnected the call.

"Lazy son of a..." Louis grumbled to himself. He entered the dim bathroom and walked over to the stalls. "S'up, man," he said, acknowledging a man standing hunched over in the middle of the room.

Louis sat down on the toilet and looked at his phone, which started beeping erratically.

"Oh, god_damn_ it," he cursed to himself. "How can that server be down _again?_ I just _fixed_ that mother – "

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud _THUMP_ on the door of his stall.

"Occupied, man," he said, without looking up.

_THUMP._ The man outside the stall banged on the door again.

"Hey, _occupado_. This stall is _occupied_," Louis snapped. _"There is someone in this stall already."_

There was a moment of silence, then – _THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. TH –_

"Okay, _what the hell_?" the already-annoyed systems analyst exclaimed in disbelief. "Could you let a man take a shit in peace?"

There was no reply, just heavy breathing on the other side of the door. Louis could see the other man's shoes through the gap between the tiled floor and stall door. His breathing sounded laboured.

"Hey..." Louis said, suddenly concerned. "Uh, you okay man?"

The other man's shoes disappeared from view, and then Louis heard the sound of throwing up. A dark red puddle of _blood_ appeared on the floor. He was shocked, disgusted, appalled and scared at the same time. He slowly got to his feet, pulling up his pants. He climbed on top of the toilet and carefully peered over the stall door. Where the man had been, there was now a big red puddle and bloody handprints all over the floor.

"Oh, _shit..._" Louis breathed.

"_**RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"**_

Louis whipped his head back to see a raving, slobbering, blood-covered face right behind him. He nearly had a heart-attack right there and then. The man wrapped his arms around Louis' face and chest.

"Oh, shit! _Shit!_" the young business man yelled.

He struggled with his crazed attacker, who brought his head in toward Louis' forearm, bearing his teeth.

"Don't!" Louis pleaded in vain.

He screamed in pain as the man bit into his arm, drawing blood.

"Get your goddamn hands off me!" he yelled, bringing one of his feet up and kicking the other man in the mouth.

He felt several teeth break under the impact of his shoe, and the offender was thrown off onto the floor. Louis immediately dropped down from the door, heaving. To his horror, the man got back up, his mouth covered in both Louis' blood and his own. He threw himself at Louis again, and the two violently struggled for a few more moments, throwing each other against the walls of the bathroom stall.

The lunatic wrapped his arms around Louis once again, and opened his mouth to sink his remaining teeth into his prey's neck. Louis desperately grabbed for anything to save himself and found the metal toilet-roll dispenser. It hung off the cubicle wall, loosened by the violent tussle in the small space. With his remaining strength, he ripped the metal dispenser free, and then _slammed_ it into his attacker's head. A burst of blood and brain matter sprayed into Louis' face, and the other man crumpled to the floor of the bathroom, dead.

Louis stood hunched over his first kill, heaving, and still grasping the bloody toilet-roll dispenser. His mind was a whirlwind of mayhem. He did not know what to think anymore. Louis dropped the dispenser and walked out of the bathroom, leaving the mutilated body on the floor. He breezed through his office, all of his surroundings little more than a blur. As he sat down at his desk, he looked at the bloody bite-mark on his arm. What was going to happen to him? Louis put his head in his hands and let the grief wash over him.

* * *

><p><em>FAIRFIELD<em>

_PRESENT DAY..._

Despite sitting tied up in a chair with a throbbing headache, Francis could not help but smirk. "You killed an Infected with your bare hands?_ You?_ Now I _know_ this story is bullshit!"

"Quiet!" Bill snapped.

Louis ignored Francis' snide remark and continued with his story. "After what happened, I was trying to get out of the city when I ran into these folk in a safe-house. I told the doctor what had happened to me, but he said that there was still hope. I could be immune. So, what we're doing to you right now, they did the exact same thing to me. Except to see if I was going to turn or not."

Francis sat in silence as he contemplated this information.

"Why would he lie to us, son?" Bill said.

Finally, the big biker looked up, his expression hard and cold. "Fine. If you untie me, I promise not to shoot Louis."

Bill hesitated for a moment, and then he cut the ropes binding Francis' hands and feet. As he climbed to his feet, Louis extended his hand.

"Hey, no hard feelings, man."

Francis just stared at the ex-business man in silence for a moment. "Everyone's different. It might just be that you take longer to turn than other people." He knocked Louis' hand aside and stalked forward, getting right in his face. "Just know that I _don't trust you_. If you make one slip-up, one wrong turn, give me one good reason to shoot you..."

Francis let the threat hang in the air for a moment, and then he stormed out of the apartment.


	6. Chapter 5: The Subway

**Chapter 5: The Subway**

* * *

><p>The four survivors carefully made their way through the wrecked streets amid the rubble, wrecked andor abandoned cars. The distant clatter of gunfire could be heard, which gave Zoey some small hope that there were other survivors out there. Maybe some of her friends were still alive...

"Just another night in Fairfield, huh?" Louis remarked lightly.

She and Bill kept silent, keeping a wary eye out for the Infected. Francis, however, turned and rounded on the former business man.

"Alright, just shut up."

"What the hell is your problem, man?"

The burly biker threw up his tattooed arms in frustration. "_You!_ How can you be so... _positive?_ You're injured, slowing the rest of us down – "

"Francis!" Zoey snapped shortly.

Louis pointed his Uzi ahead as he walked, ignoring the burning pain in his chest. Luckily, it was not a crippling sensation. "Guess where we're headed? Mercy _Hospital_. It's only a few blocks away, and I can get treatment once we're there."

"D'you really think there are still doctors around?" Francis scoffed.

"Alright, that's enough, you two!" Bill snapped, his eyes on the road ahead. "There's a subway station around the corner. If we follow the tunnels, we'll come out right near the hospital. Now _cut__the__chatter_. No more unnecessary noise."

His tone brooked no argument, and no more words were exchanged as his party followed the road for a couple more blocks. Everyone knew they had to play their part if they wanted to get through the streets safely, and they covered each other as they moved past dark alleyways, smashed windows and other possible points of ambush. An observer would have seen little more than dark shadows flitting silently through the street. After a short walk, they came to the crumbled subway entrance. The darkness at the bottom of the stairs made everyone feel uneasy.

"I'm not sure about this," Zoey said hesitantly. "Dark tunnels? That's _always_ the place where the first guy dies."

Bill patted her shoulder. "I think you've been watching too many horror films, kid."

She chuckled. "For the past six months, that's _all_ I did. I was studying how to make movies at college, but I hardly left my dorm room."

"Creative research?" the older man asked jokingly.

"Maybe," she murmured. "I never thought I'd be living a horror movie."

"Hey, Zoey," Francis butted in. "Enlighten us, who's always the first one to die in those movies?"

The pretty former college student glanced as Louis for a moment, drawing his attention.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly, looking away.

* * *

><p>The subway station looked as though a bomb had hit it. In actual fact, several trains had derailed in the events following the outbreak of the Green Flu. Bill led the group through the station, making his way around furiously-burning fires, climbing over several ticket gates and tip-toeing down a couple of flights of stairs.<p>

"How are you feeling?" Zoey whispered carefully to Louis.

"Not too bad, surprisingly. I mean, don't get me wrong, it still bloody _hurts_. But since Bill wrapped up the wounds, they don't seem to hurt quite as much."

"And I suppose those pain pills had nothing to do with it," she said sarcastically.

Louis laughed. "I must've swallowed half the bottle."

"Just try not to OD on us."

"Through here," came Bill's voice from ahead.

The four survivors came onto the subway platform and surveyed the destruction. Several trains had crashed through the walls, leaving gaping holes, and certain parts of the roof had collapsed.

"I hate subways," Francis said suddenly.

Zoey and Louis shared a look.

"Come on," Bill said, motioning them toward a tunnel that appeared to head north. "We go north, we come to Mercy – OH SHIT!"

He swung his rifle around and gunned down an infected man that ran at him out of the shadows, peppering his body with countless holes of spurting blood. The others looked around in alarm to see several more Common Infected rushing at them from the edges of the room, screeching like banshees. They opened fire and took down several more, muzzle-flashes lighting up the dark place.

"Reloading!" Zoey cried, ejecting her spent clip and slamming a new one into the breech. She realigned her aim and shot an infected man in the face, sending greyish-pink brain matter arcing through the air.

"I'M OUT!" Louis yelled over the roaring gunfire.

The young woman quickly drew a second pistol from the holster at her hip and handed it to him. "Here!"

Francis blew away two Infected at once with a close-range blast from his shotgun, spraying a gratuitous amount of gore over the ground, while Bill fired off a long burst from his assault rifle, killing the last three. He grunted with dissatisfaction when he realised he was down to three clips.

"Ammo check!" he called.

"I've got plenty," came Francis' reply.

"We're down to pistols," Zoey said.

"You've always been using a pistol," the biker grunted.

"Okay, well I'm down to three M-16 clips, so we're going to have try and conserve ammunition," Bill cut in.

Francis snorted derisively. "Yeah. Tell that to the guys who keep trying to kill us. What should we say? 'Please don't attack us, we can't fight back!'"

"You've got plenty of ammo, right?" Bill asked, his brow furrowed in a perpetual frown.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for volunteering to take point."

* * *

><p>Francis swept through the dark subway tunnels ahead of the group, his gun sweeping from side-to-side as he searched for targets. Since the shootout back at the platform, they had encountered no more Infected.<p>

"What the hell is this?" he grumbled. "It's the freaking Zombie Apocalypse and there ain't no zombies to shoot!"

"Don't say that!" Louis hissed at him.

"What?"

"That! 'Zombies'."

"Why not?" the large biker said over his shoulder.

"Because, it's ridiculous."

"Oh, I'm sorry, didn't mean to offend you," Francis said sarcastically. "Would you prefer it if I called them vampires?"

**_ "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"_**

The tunnel echoed with a loud, unnatural scream, causing Louis to jump with fright.

"What the hell was that?"

Zoey's mind turned. "It sounded familiar..."

"Let's keep moving people," Bill said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Whatever that thing was, I'd rather not run into it."

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Ten points to anyone who can spot the _Shaun of the Dead_ reference.

Thanks for reading, please take the time to write a quick review, all that good stuff.


	7. Chapter 6: Hunted

**Chapter 6: Hunted**

* * *

><p>The four survivors made their way through the northbound subway tunnel. Zoey had been very spooked by the unearthly scream that had echoed throughout the tunnel before, and she inadvertently found herself looking over her shoulder more than once. Her group advanced in silence. However, they were forced to stop when they found the entire tunnel blocked by the smouldering wreckage of a train.<p>

Francis spat on it in frustration. "_Now_ what the hell do we do?"

"We have to find a way around," Bill replied.

"There could be some maintenance tunnels around here," Zoey said thoughtfully.

The group back-tracked a couple of hundred metres and found a door built into the tunnel wall, marked SUBWAY PERSONNEL ONLY.

"My ass," Francis said, blowing the lock away with his shotgun.

"Which part of 'conserve your ammo' escapes your understanding?" Bill snapped.

While the two men were bickering, Zoey moved through the doorway, flashlight and gun out in front.

"Guys, through here!" she called. "There's a set of rooms, and they seem to continue next to the tunnel."

* * *

><p>"I hate tunnels," Francis said after walking through one dull room after another.<p>

The light from their flashlights revealed stacks of empty shelves, destroyed tables and electronic equipment. Zoey rolled her eyes while Bill lit up another cigarette.

"Damn," the old veteran grunted. "Runnin' low on ammo, and now on smokes."

"You know those things will kill you," she replied.

"Kid, with the world in ruins, I ain't sweatin' lung cancer."

The former college student suddenly stopped walking, her eyes staring blankly ahead. Francis and Louis were further ahead and did not notice. Bill, however, stopped walking and looked over at her in concern.

"You okay?"

"How far do you think the virus has spread?" she murmured, fighting back tears.

"I have no idea," Bill said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He chose not to mention that, several days earlier in a safe-house, he had seen a map of America showing active military outposts. A number of them, some as far north as Maine, and as far west as California, had large black crosses through them. Overrun.

"Do you think we'll ever be able to stop running?" Zoey asked.

He patted her shoulder and coaxed her into moving again. "One thing at a time."

Just as they resumed walking, they both whirled at the sound of a loud growl behind them. Their lights located a dark, hooded figure, a few rooms back, crawling on all fours toward them.

"Look out!" Zoey cried, panicked. "It's the thing that got Louis – "

With a shocking, ear-splitting scream, the infected figure pounced, _flying_ through the air at incredible speed. It closed the distance between itself and the two survivors within seconds. It was just about to tackle Zoey when –

_SLAM!_ Bill dashed to the nearest door and swung it around with his arm. It slammed shut with a loud _BANG_, separating them from their attacker. A loud crash came from the other side of the door as the creature slammed into it. Then it started pounding on the door.

Bill ran over to Zoey and grabbed her arm, pulling her along. "Come on, we gotta move!"

The pounding continued, and she looked back over her shoulder to see splinters and cracks appearing in the door. The creature was breaking through. They quickly caught up with Francis and Louis.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"That thing that attacked you before, it's right behind us!" Zoey cried in terror. "It must have followed us! It's _hunting_ us!"

"A Hunter, huh?" Bill mused as they ran through the rooms. "Doesn't it know that humans invented the sport?"

The group stopped dead when they heard _more_ growling coming from further up ahead. They aimed their flashlights forward through the door to see a dark, hooded figure creeping toward them.

_That's not possible!_ Louis thought in a panic. _That thing is fast, but it can't be _that_ fast!_

His suspicions were confirmed when he looked back and saw that the door behind them was still under assault by razor-sharp claws. But his heart sank regardless.

"Shit! There are _two_ Hunters!"

Zoey gasped and looked backward. "We're screwed!"

"Francis, get that forward door shut!" Bill ordered.

The biker ran ahead and quickly slammed the door closed before the second Hunter could pounce. Meanwhile, Bill reached into his army fatigues and produced out a grenade. He pulled the pin and lobbed it against the wall. It bounced several times, before coming to rest.

"Take cover!" the old man yelled.

The four survivors cowered behind various tables and shelves, sheltering themselves. The grenade exploded seconds later, blasting a gaping hole in the wall, and peppering every exposed surface in the room with shards of shrapnel. The survivors cautiously raised their heads, and then Bill motioned the others through the smoking hole, back out into the subway tunnel.

Fortunately, they had walked far enough through the rooms running parallel to the tunnels, and had bypassed the train crash. Francis ran on ahead into the tunnel with the others following him. They knew that the Hunters would be close behind as well. A couple of doors were not going to hold them for long.

* * *

><p>Francis let out a disgruntled sigh when they arrived at the next subway station. The tunnel further ahead had collapsed.<p>

He turned back to address the group. "Well, going up is the only option."

"Damn," Bill cursed. "There's no way we'll be able to make it to Mercy topside on foot. Going out onto the streets is suicide."

"Well, so is going back!" Francis pointed out. "Especially with those two freaks after us."

"Hey, guys!" Louis said. "Why don't we go down?"

The others looked over to see him struggling to lift a manhole set into a concrete foundation next to the platform.

Bill raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You wanna go through the sewers?"

"Well, you said it yourself; the streets are suicide. Besides, how many Infected could there be down there?"

Francis opened his mouth to answer, but a loud roar pierced the air in the tunnel behind them. The Hunters were closing in. Zoey ran over and started helping Louis without a fuss. Bill stood in thought for a moment, and then he sighed and walked over to the manhole. A moment later, the metal lid had been lifted off, revealing a gaping black hole.

Louis looked at Zoey. "So, uh, ladies first?"

"You're such a gentleman," she replied sarcastically. She stood at the edge looking down into the hole for a moment. Then she aimed her flashlight downward and started climbing down the ladder. Louis followed her.

"Are you serious?" Francis said. "We're really going through the sewers?"

Bill looked at him stony-faced for a moment. Without another word, he slung his assault rifle over his shoulder and followed the other two down the ladder into the darkness.


	8. Chapter 7: The Sewers

**Chapter 7: The Sewers**

* * *

><p>"I hate the sewers."<p>

"Shut up, Francis."

"Bite me, Louis. Aw, _crap!_ I just stepped in something!"

"I'm going to take a wild guess here and say it was crap?"

"Keep talking. I'll cram this shotgun so far up your ass, you'll be shitting sideways."

"Uh, guys? Mixed company here?"

"Sorry, Zoey."

The cones of light from four flashlights pierced the darkness of the sewer tunnels, revealing a dreary brown and green world of moss, slime and dirty-looking water, which Zoey did her utmost to keep her shoes out of.

"We need to keep to any tunnels that head north," Bill said from somewhere up ahead.

"Damn, it stinks down here," Francis complained.

"Yeah, I noticed," Bill replied mockingly. "Is that you or the sewer?"

"Oh, _hey_. That is _uncalled_ for," the burly biker said indignantly, while Zoey stifled a laugh.

The four travelled in a tight formation, keeping eye and ear out for danger. They walked without incident for an hour, keeping to the left wall of a tunnel. Zoey led the group for the moment, being sure to stop every time she thought she heard a sound. Fortunately, nothing leapt out of the darkness at them. Bill was keeping an eye on her, worried that she might break down and come apart on them, like she almost had back in the subway.

_She __won__'__t,_ he told himself. _Zoey__'__s __a __strong __girl. __She __knows __how __to __handle __herself._

Louis plodded along behind Bill, doing his best not to lag behind. However, the pain in his chest was starting to burn with increased ferocity. He clutched the pistol that Zoey had given him with one hand while he held his chest with the other, struggling not to pant with the pain. After all, any noise could attract the Infected...

_What __I __wouldn__'__t __give __for __some __more __pain __pills..._

Meanwhile, Francis knew that the others had their attention focused on the monsters without – the danger that could come at them from the front or the sides. He concerned himself with the monsters within, and kept his shotgun trained on Louis the entire time. The young business man glanced over his shoulder occasionally to see Francis staring back at him, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was holding him at gunpoint. Whenever this happened, Louis just scowled and turned to face the front again.

The four survivors continued like this for some time, surrounded by the sound of dripping water. They passed by doors every now and then, but they were not interested in what could be behind them and ignored them. Suddenly, Louis stiffened, and stopped walking. What he had just heard was _not_ dripping water.

_"__Shhhhhh!__"_ he hissed.

The others promptly stopped and looked at him.

"What is it, son?" Bill whispered.

"I heard something..."

The survivors stood in silence for a moment, keeping their ears open for any noises.

"There it is again!" Louis hissed suddenly.

The others listened carefully to hear a strange scuffling noise nearby, echoing slightly in the tunnel. The sound was gone as soon as it came. Bill turned and aimed his flashlight back down in the direction that they had come from, but the light revealed nothing except the long, endless drain that seemed to go on forever.

"Something's following us, that's for sure," he whispered carefully.

"How can you be so sure?" Louis demanded.

* * *

><p>Bill said nothing for a moment. The silence was absolute. "<em>That<em>_'__s_ how. It only moves when we do."

The four survivors crept along the tunnel at an even slower crawl than before. Something was stalking them; smart enough to stay just out of sight to prevent them from using their guns. Bill frowned in frustration. It was just as bad as Charlie. The Viet Cong had employed smart tactics, staying out of sight, and ambushing US troops on their own terms –

Zoey cried out and fired a shot from her pistol, shattering the silence of the sewers. The muzzle-flash lit up the tunnel momentarily, illuminating a dark shadow further ahead leaping out of sight. It moved too fast for them tell whether Zoey had hit it or not.

"Well, our cover's blown," Francis said, scowling.

"It was blown already," Bill said. "We were being followed for a while now."

"Guys! Through here!" Zoey called out. They looked over to see her standing next to a door built into the wall of the sewer tunnel. "I think it leads to some water treatment plant."

"Better than standing out in the open," Bill remarked.

**_ "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"_**

A horrible scream exploded in everyone's ears. Louis looked back in shock to see a hooded figure fly out of the darkness behind them and _slam_ into Francis in a violent dive. The biker was pinned to the dirty floor of the sewers under the shadow's weight.

"Oh, _shit!_" Louis yelled. "The Hunters caught up with us!"

His pistol exploded into action, the flame at the tip belching forth bullets, which struck the Hunter a couple of times in the torso. It screeched in pain and leapt back into the shadows, while Francis quickly clambered to his feet and retrieved his shotgun.

"That hooded son of a bitch – " he growled.

The unnatural scream echoed throughout the tunnel again as the Hunter leapt back out of the shadows, Francis barely able to roll out of harm's way. He recovered and fired off a round at the creature, his shotgun pellets tearing gouts of stone chips off the wall of the tunnel in a puff of dust and smoke. The creature dove back into the darkness, unharmed.

"Don't shoot at it!" Bill warned. "It's too fast, you're only going to waste your shells!"

Screeches echoed in the darkness as the grizzled biker continued to take pot-shots at the fleeting shadows of the two Hunters.

"Francis!" Bill roared from the doorway. "Get your ass in here _now!__"_

He begrudgingly obliged, and the older man quickly slammed the door shut.

"Out of the way!" Zoey called from the side.

She pushed a table in front of the door, and then began to stack boxes and any other heavy-looking objects on top of it.

"Nice work, kid!" Bill exclaimed. "Now let's _move!_ Double-time, people!"

* * *

><p>The group advanced cautiously through the water treatment facility, guns held out in front. Francis had elected to take point, while Zoey watched the rear. Since they had managed to lose the Hunters a while back, the tense silence surrounded them once again. They made their way past abandoned machinery and water tanks, casting their eyes to various metal catwalks suspended above them that could harbour danger.<p>

"Brilliant plan coming down here, Louis," Francis said presently over his shoulder. The sarcasm in his tone was more than obvious.

As he and Louis bickered quietly, Zoey stopped dead.

"Guys, I think I heard something," she whispered.

She aimed her flashlight behind them, without realising that the others had not noticed, and had continued walking ahead. Zoey carefully slid the safety off on her M1911, unaware that she was being watched from the side.

Bill walked on ahead with Francis and Louis, paying no attention to them. Suddenly, he looked back and stopped dead, an icy ball materialising in his stomach.

"Where's Zoey?" he hissed.

* * *

><p>Zoey crouched down by a large machine, keeping watch in the direction that they had just come from. Then, to her horror, she realised that she felt... <em>something<em>_'__s_ presence off to her side. Her breath caught in her throat as she switched off the flashlight, plunging the area into total darkness. She slowly exhaled as she listened to her surroundings. The silence was absolute.

Zoey slowly turned the flashlight to the direction in question and readied her pistol. In one fluid movement, she turned the flashlight back on, and her finger squeezed the tigge –

She stopped herself dead. The cone from her flashlight revealed nothing, except for a dirty brick wall.

_**"**__**AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**__**"**_

A terrible scream came from right _behind_ Zoey, and she was knocked to the cold, cement floor of the room. Her flashlight and pistol fell from her grip, and she felt a pair of cold, clammy hands throwing her roughly up against the machinery. Zoey struggled with her attacker, but she could not see what she was doing in the dark. The hands closed in around her throat and started to squeeze, as she gasped desperately for breath.

* * *

><p>Bill feared the worst when he heard the loud scream of an infected woman nearby.<p>

_Zoey,_ he thought desperately as he, Louis and Francis ran back to the last place that they remembered seeing her. _How __could __we l__et __you __down __like __that!_

"Where the hell is she – " Francis started to say. "OH, SHIT! INFECTED BEHIND US!"

Bill and Louis ignored the sounds of Francis' shotgun blasts and continued their desperate run to reach Zoey. He could hear the sounds of struggling nearby, and they ran around a corner of a particularly large piece of machinery to find Zoey being held up against the machine. She was in the process of being throttled and struck by several Common Infected. It was like the scene of a dark and twisted mugging.

"You take your filthy hands off her!" Bill roared, raising his M-16.

However, Louis' hand came up and pushed the gun back down. "Don't! You might hit her!"

Without another word, Bill threw down the rifle, a combat knife taking its place. He launched himself at the nearest Infected and stabbed it through the neck. As it crumpled to the floor, Bill did not slow in his stride, slashing the next infected man across the throat, a spray of blood flying through the air. Louis aimed his pistol at heads and carefully squeezed off rounds, taking care to aim so as to not hit any of his compatriots.

Bill, however, was on the war path. How _dare_ they _assault_ _her_ like that! He reached an infected woman, grabbed her head and violently twisted it sideways, feeling the neck snap. Her body had not even hit the floor when Bill grabbed a nearby man's shoulder and spun him around, stabbing him repeatedly through the chest.

Zoey spied flashes of light and blurs of movement from the corner of her eye. She tried in vain to suck air into her lungs, and her vision was starting to tunnel. She teetered on the brink of consciousness when she heard a loud _THWACK!_ The hands around her throat loosened immediately, and Zoey stumbled to one knee, sucking air into her lungs gratefully. She looked up to see Bill standing above her, his face covered in blood. He offered his hand and helped her to her feet.

"Th – thank you..." she rasped.

"Don't mention it – " Bill started to say, when he was tackled from the side.

Zoey looked up worriedly to see that another infected woman had leapt from the shadows and pinned Bill to the ground, raising her hands to strike. Without hesitating, Zoey retrieved her fallen pistol and took aim. She squeezed the trigger, and the muzzle-flash illuminated a spray of red mist that burst from the woman's chest. Bill managed to throw her off.

As he climbed to his feet, Zoey picked up her fallen flashlight and walked over to the infected woman she had just shot. The woman in question was lying on the ground, panting laboriously, blood dribbling from her mouth. She looked up to see Zoey standing overhead, aiming a pistol down at her, and opened her mouth in a savage hiss. She was shot dead a moment later.

"I'm sorry," Zoey uttered in a shaky voice. She glanced up to see Louis looking at her, and quickly cast her eyes downward in embarrassment.


	9. Chapter 8: Place to Hide

**Chapter 8: Place to Hide**

* * *

><p>Francis reloaded his shotgun as the others made their way back to him. He glanced at them and scowled. "Thanks for the backup there, guys."<p>

Bill looked down at the bodies at Francis' feet in disdain. "You fought off _two_ Common Infected, Francis."

"Yeah, but what if there had been more?"

Before Bill could reply, Zoey's voice cut in. "Hey! What's that?"

The others looked to see her pointing at a large, red door built into a nearby wall. The sturdy-looking steel door was fitted with a small viewing portal with iron bars covering the opening. The survivors wandered up to the door, cautiously pushing it open to peer inside. They were met with the sight of a small, bare room with a wooden table against one wall with some maps hanging above it. A number of discarded wooden crates were scattered throughout the room.

"It's like the safe-room that I stayed in before I met up with you guys," Louis commented.

Bill nodded in agreement. "It _is_ a safe-room." When he saw Francis' puzzled expression, he sighed. "A series of panic rooms throughout the country, set up by the military after the outbreak."

"Does it have a radio?" Zoey asked hopefully.

The war veteran shook his head.

"Food?" Louis asked.

Bill gestured to the crates on the floor. All of them had been ransacked a long time ago.

Francis snorted. "What _does_ it have, then?"

The older man tapped the sturdy red door. "Shelter. We might actually be able to rest in here for the remainder of the night."

"I don't know, man," Louis began. "Shouldn't we just make for the hospital?"

"Son, we have no idea how many Infected are standing between us and Mercy. And it's been a long time since any of us have had a proper rest. We'll take what we can get."

With that, the four survivors entered the safe-room and closed the door, sealing it shut from the inside with a specially-fitted iron door bar.

"Those Hunters won't be able to get at us in here, will they?" Louis asked nervously.

"Not unless they can break down a bolted steel door," Bill replied. "If it turns out that they _can_, then we never really had much of a chance anyway."

* * *

><p>Francis sat on a wooden crate, staring blankly at a can of cold baked beans in his hand. He had taken a couple of mouthfuls, and then found himself longing for a grilled steak.<p>

"Hey. Uh, you gonna eat that?" Louis' voice cut into his thoughts.

He looked over to see that the former business man had already finished his tin of peaches.

"I've been carrying this damn can around in my backpack for three days," Francis growled. "You can damn-well _bet_ I'm going to eat it!"

Louis spread his palms in a gesture of peace. "Okay, man. Just askin'."

Bill was sitting on the cold concrete floor, leaning against a wall. He reached into a small, crinkled bag sitting next to him and fished out a stale cracker. As he chewed, he glanced over at Zoey as she wandered around the room, looking around. There were a number of safety bulletins posted by the Civil Emergency and Defence Agency, otherwise known as CEDA. The flyers gave instructions on remaining uncontaminated, namely by avoiding direct contact with the Infected, among other things. Zoey chuckled to herself when she realised that she and her group had broken pretty much every single one of CEDA's rules. They were still not infected yet, so that was good, right?

She had then looked over the official maps and documents that hung over the table, but it was obvious that they were all outdated. So now Zoey had taken to perusing the graffiti scrawled on the walls of the safe-room. There were several messages left for loved ones, amid countless prayers for salvation. One particularly nice individual had taken the liberty of writing down a list of known evacuation sites.

"Hey, guys," she called out. "Mercy Hospital is the nearest evac zone. It looks like it's the only one left in Fairfield. There _is_ another one in the town of Riverside, but that's miles west of here. There's also some military outpost called Echo, but it's all the way in the Allegheny National Forest. It looks like Mercy is the only realistic option we have..."

Zoey turned back to the wall and continued to browse through the writings. One message in particular caught her attention.

_WE ARE THE REAL MONSTERS. WE ALL DESERVE THIS._

She then noticed that someone had scribbled a response under it, which made her chuckle.

_Maybe you do. I didn't do anything._

"Hey, kid," Bill called her over. "You should eat something."

Zoey walked over and knelt down in front of him, accepting a cracker proffered to her. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a small, disposable lunch-pack of peanut butter, which she dipped the cracker into. She offered the peanut butter to Bill, but he declined with a wave of his hand.

"My last pack," she said ruefully.

Bill chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll get you some more soon."

"I hope so. We just ate the last of our food."

* * *

><p>An hour later, Francis was asleep in a corner of the room, while Zoey sat on the floor, leaning her back against a stack of old drums as she dismantled her M1911. Despite the fact that she was more than ready to enter the Sandman's embrace, she rummaged through Francis' backpack for the small wire-brush that had been kept for cleaning firearms. If she neglected maintaining her pistol any longer, she could find herself in a lot of trouble. Bill and Louis stood by the door, conversing quietly.<p>

"It _is_ nice to be able to sit down for a minute without having to look over my shoulder," he was saying. "These safe-rooms – ingenious!"

"We can't stay here for long," the grizzled veteran said, motioning down at Louis' injuries. "We have to get you onto a helicopter, pronto."

He nodded in agreement. "Not to mention that those two Hunters might still be tracking us."

"Get some rest," Bill sighed. "I'll take the first watch."

"I thought that these rooms were 'safe'?" the younger man argued.

"Son, I'm not taking any chances."

Louis walked over to Zoey, who looked up as he approached. "How're you doing?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

"Okay, I guess," she replied.

"Hey, I've got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"You were a college student, right? So how'd you get so good with guns?"

Zoey sighed, as though she was recalling a bad memory. "My dad was a cop. He was heading up through the ranks quickly too, right before my parents split."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Louis said.

The girl shook her head. "It's fine. Anyway, he had this dream that, one day, I'd join the force just like him. He was always taking me to firing ranges, teaching me self-defence, stuff like that. He also got me into horror movies. I wasn't a boy, but he always treated me like the son he never had."

"Well, you have a natural gift with guns."

"Um, thanks, I guess?" She turned her face toward him. "And what about you? How does a 'Junior Systems Analyst' get so good with guns?"

"Well, I always used to go to the local firing range at lunch. I don't know why, and my co-workers gave me hell for it. In hindsight, I guess I was just unhappy at my job, and it was a way for me to blow off some steam. I was actually working up the courage to quit my job when all this Green Flu shit went down."

"I was dropping out of college."

Louis chuckled. "Man, how stupidly insignificant our problems back then seem now, huh?"

Zoey smiled in reply and offered him the wire-brush.

He looked down at the state of his gun, and then accepted the brush. "Tell you what; I've got a new set of goals now."

"What's that?"

"Live long enough to succeed."

Zoey chuckled.

"I've got a new set of tools too," Louis continued as he dismantled his weapon for cleaning. "Guns and sharp objects."

Zoey laughed at that one.

Her companion shook his head. "With any luck, I'll be able to figure out how the new management operates before they get a chance to murder me."

"They've already had plenty of chances," she pointed out. "You're still standing."

The two sat in a contemplative silence for a moment, before Louis turned his head toward her again.

"Hey, uh... I've got another question for you."

"Shoot." Zoey glanced down at the firearm cradled in his lap. "Not literally though."

Louis did not chuckle this time. "How come you said you're sorry to that infected woman after you shot her?"

"You heard that, huh?"

He nodded.

Zoey sighed and stared blankly ahead for a few moments. "Well, they're people too, you know? It might not seem like it when they're trying to rip your head off, but they used to be just like us. And we'll end up just like them if we get infected."

"Do you always apologise to them when you shoot them?"

"I used to," she said, gazing down at her pistol absently. "But not so much anymore. It's getting easier to shoot them. I'm not sure if that's a good thing, or if I should be worried."

"Well, it's all about self-defence. And survival," Louis pointed out.

"But having thoughts, emotions, and _humanity_ is what separates us from them."

* * *

><p>Bill grasped the stock of his M-16 firmly as he looked around the dingy storeroom that they had taken shelter in. Francis was flat out on the floor in a far corner, using his shotgun as a pillow.<p>

"_That_ looks comfortable..." Bill muttered sarcastically.

Louis and Zoey had fallen asleep where they had sat talking a few hours ago, with their backs leaning against a stack of drums. The pretty college student's head had flopped forward, causing her bangs to fall over her face. Bill studied her carefully. After what had happened when she got separated from the group, he was ready to tear the sewers apart to find her. He knew that she was the one who he felt the most protective of. Nothing was going to happen to her on his watch.

Bill sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was supposed to have woken someone a couple of hours ago to take over sentry duty. But they needed their sleep. He would rest when they were all safe.

He gave Zoey, Louis and Francis a couple more minutes of peace, before rising to his feet. "Rise and shine, ladies."

The others began to stir, and Zoey was the first to open her eyes. She found herself looking at Bill.

"Good morning, Vietnam," she murmured teasingly.

He chuckled. "Hope you're well-rested. I've got a big day of activities in store for us."

"Oh?"

"Yep. First, you're being served a buffet breakfast in bed." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a packet of peanuts and tossed it over to her. "Then, we're scheduled for a leisurely morning stroll through these shithouse sewers." Bill cocked his rifle. "Then in the afternoon, we have sports. Us versus the Infected." He looked over at Francis, who sat up rubbing his eyes. "No foul play, Francis. I want a good, clean game."

"Quit your blabbin', old man," the biker muttered.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

I do not take credit for the little spiel Louis gives about the "new management". It is a part of his character bio. But it was awesome, so I wanted to include it in the story somehow.

Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone. I appreciate the reviews; please keep them coming, as well as any constructive criticism that you can provide on improving the story, or making it a scarier read. I'm no Stephen King, but I can still try, right?


	10. Chapter 9: The Streets

**Chapter 9: The Streets**

* * *

><p>Bill slowly scaled the slick ladder, trying to ignore the smell that lingered on his clothes. Everyone was rather eager to get out of the sewers after the "scheduled morning walk".<p>

"Next time, _I__'__m_ in charge of the itinerary," Louis had said.

Bill carefully slid the manhole cover opened and peeked out into the outside world. "All clear," he called down to the others after a few tense moments.

Not a second was wasted getting out of the rank sewers. As she climbed, Zoey felt miserable. She was cold, damp, her hair was a terrible mess (although it was still miraculously held in a ponytail), and she was pretty sure that she stank of the sewer. As much as she used to enjoy her zombie movies, being a participant was not quite as much fun as being an observer.

As she looked around the ruined street, she could feel her heart sink. The scale of destruction throughout the city was unprecedented; countless wreckages of cars, buildings and people served as testament to the wrath of the Green Flu. Perhaps what was more terrifying than the destruction was the silence. The distant sounds of sirens and clattering gunfire had finally died down, leaving a horrifying stillness in their wake. Were they the only ones left in Fairfield?

_Don__'__t __think __like __that,_ she scolded herself.

"Alright, we got orders for a short hike to the hospital," Bill said slowly, bringing her back to the present. "We've got plenty of daylight left, so we can make good time. Stay close, keep low, and for God's sake, _keep __quiet_."

* * *

><p>The little ragtag group carefully made their way through the street, staying close to the buildings on the left-hand side of the road. They were nearing the city centre; a number of high-rise buildings towered above them, along with various derelict apartment complexes. Although the sky was littered with clouds, the sunlight filtered through drearily.<p>

The survivors walked in complete silence, under Bill's strict orders. However, the dead quiet put Louis on edge. It was not just the fact that his group was not talking, but it was so damn _quiet_.

"I don't like this..." he murmured softly, ignoring a scathing look that Bill shot over his shoulder. "Where _is_ everyone?"

"Dead or infected," Francis said bluntly.

Zoey choked back a strangled noise at that statement. All of her friends, her teachers. They were all gone. And her pare –

_No._

She shook her head clear of these counter-productive thoughts. She had to stay focused and keep her head in the game.

"Even if they _are_ infected, where _are_ they all?" Louis was saying. "The entire city is deserted."

No one had anything to say to that troubling observation. The sun continued to beat down on them as they walked, stopping at every intersection, where Bill would slowly creep up to the crossing street as the others covered him. A quick scan of the area each time left him satisfied that there were no enemies in sight, at which point he ushered the others forward.

It was a slow and tense march, and Bill found himself increasingly troubled by the lack of... well, _anyone_ in the streets. Had the Infected moved on from the city because of dwindling food? Perhaps they were lurking inside the buildings, watching them. He cast a wary eye to the dark windows of the surrounding buildings.

After a while, the veteran halted the group again to scout out another intersection ahead. The others watched as the old man crouched behind an abandoned car, looked around and visibly stiffened.

"Oh, that can't be good..." Louis muttered.

"We've got a problem," Bill said carefully upon his return. "Infected. Lots of 'em, all over the street."

"Well, we had a good run," Francis said unhelpfully.

"Can we go around them?" Zoey asked carefully, to which Bill shook his head.

"It's wall-to-wall up there."

"How can we get to the hospital then?"

Bill motioned at the large amount of cars abandoned in the middle of the street. "We can sneak through."

The look he received from Francis made it clear that he was under suspicion of losing his marbles. "Are you serious, old man?"

The man in question scowled in challenge. "Got a better idea? Either we go through, or we go back."

The following silence implied that no one had any desire to return to the sewers. Her heart pounding in her chest, Zoey followed the others to the traffic intersection, and she felt her blood run cold. Everywhere she looked, there were people hobbling and ambling around aimlessly. There were _so_ _many_ of them...

_"__Get __down!__"_ Bill hissed at her, and she immediately crouched down next to the car. "We cross one at a time, a minute apart," he said slowly. "Keep low, and move as fast you can. Don't stop 'till you're on the other side." He nodded at Francis. "You're up, hotshot."

The burly biker grimaced and, gripping his shotgun tightly, made his move across the street in a dash, staying low behind cars. Bill found himself slightly impressed. He could not have done it better himself.

Louis went next, his clumsy crossing causing several close-calls of being discovered. Zoey's teeth hissed with several sharp intakes of breath, while Bill's jaw tightened as he watched. He noticed several Infected nearby pausing to look in their direction, and he slowly raised his M-16. He hoped to high hell that it did not come to a fire-fight here. Thankfully, after several agonising minutes, the ex-business man had joined Francis on the other side, and they still had not been attacked.

Bill nodded at Zoey. "You're up, kid."

She moved into the street with her heart thumping so hard, she feared it would burst out of her chest. She was amazed – and appalled – at how stressful this was. She was well into the intersection when she heard the sound of shuffling across the asphalt right behind the car that she was cowering behind. She looked back at Bill to see him urgently motioning for her to stay still. The sound of shuffling feet drew closer; Zoey knew that if she looked through the windows of the car, she would be face-to-face with certain death. In a slow careful movement, she extracted her pistol from its holster and held it down to her side as her arms trembled. There was a tense moment of stillness –

Zoey nearly jumped at the sudden sound of retching as the infected person vomited right on the other side of the car. She crinkled her nose in disgust as the vile smell wafted through the air. The footsteps resumed as the danger shuffled away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Without wasting another second, she continued her crossing.

Louis was giddy with raw emotion when Bill finally joined them on the other side. "That was bloody crazy."

"Yeah, but it's done," the older man replied, fighting the urge to light up a cigarette. Not here. "Let's put as much distance between us and them as possible."

* * *

><p>Everyone was rather shaken up by the events at the intersection. However, fortunately, the Infected were now few and far between, lurking mostly in grim alleyways, making it easy enough for the survivors to sneak by.<p>

Francis' mood grew increasingly sour as he fought a losing battle against his hunger. Just as he was about to curse loudly – Infected be damned – he saw it.

"Oi, there's some sort of shop over there," he said eagerly, pointing across the road.

"The windows are all smashed. It's been looted already," Bill remarked, keeping his voice controlled.

"It's worth a _look!_ Dunno 'bout you, but I'd feel pretty stupid if we left and there was food in there."

"It's not even midday yet," Louis chimed in, tapping his watch. "We've still got plenty of daylight."

Bill considered their options. They w_ere_ out of food... well, nearly everything. "Alright, but we make this quick," he said with a reserved sigh.

With that, they approached the quaint little convenience store. Well, it was not quite so quaint anymore, what, with the smashed-in front windows and various corpses littering the pavement in front of it.

_That's never a good sign,_ Zoey thought grimly. _The inevitable supply run, which will probably lead the main characters of this gripping tale into an empty store, a zombie ambush, or both. Cue eerie and suspenseful music –_

"This place better have some beer," Francis muttered, breaking her out of her reverie.

"You've gotta be shittin' me, Francis," Bill growled in response.

They slowly approached the glass door which, strangely enough, was not smashed in like its neighbouring windows. Bill moved forward cautiously and nudged it open with the muzzle of his rifle. It swung open, giving access to the dim store behind it. They were immediately met with a disturbing sound. Chewing.

Francis raised an eyebrow, while Zoey tried to stifle the sickening thoughts of what, or _who_, was being chewed on. This was such a risk. Why did they have to enter a building which very obviously had infected people inside?

'Follow me,' Bill mouthed, putting a finger to his lips.

He led the survivors inside, his gun trained toward the nauseating crunching that could be heard nearby. The sound appeared to be coming from the left side of the shadowy store, near the back. Francis hung back slightly, covering the door with his shotgun. The last thing they needed was someone ninja-striking from behind. In a curious turn of events, Bill slung his assault rifle over his shoulder in favour of his combat knife. He noticed Zoey's perplexed expression.

"We have to keep quiet," he whispered to her, his voice barely audible. "Any noise could attract others."

With that, he turned and moved down an adjacent aisle in a crouch, still mildly surprising the college girl with his spryness. She realised that the move down the aisle _parallel_ to the one which was compromised was a tactical decision; an approach that would bring them as close as possible to the culprit of the noise without being seen. They were surrounded by shelves with a mess of items on them, but there was no time for that right now. While Francis covered the entrance, Zoey and Louis followed Bill's crouched form through the store, staying low, until they were finally right next to the source of the noise in the aisle to the left, just around the corner. The wet crunches and cracking were making Zoey feel sick.

'Cover me," Bill mouthed. 'I've got this.'

His compatriots nodded in understanding, with Louis turning to cover the way that they came, while Zoey turned to the right, guarding the back end of the room. Bill lurched into action with surprising speed, considering how silently he moved. The moment he passed out of sight, there was the sound of a brief struggle. However, he emerged from the aisle moments later, wiping the bloody knife on his pants.

"Done deal," he said quietly. "Let's secure the rest of this store."


	11. Chapter 10: Shopping

**Chapter 10: Shopping**

* * *

><p>The convenience store itself was quite small, only five aisles across, and the team had the shop floor secured in less than two minutes. The back wall, however, yielded another problem for Bill and Francis, who both came across the closed door at the same time. Presumably, it led into some storage room or employee space.<p>

The two hard-headed men shot challenging looks at each other. Without a word, they each balled a fist and engaged in a silent game of rock-paper-scissors. Bill's rock crushed Francis' scissors, and he smugly trained his M-16 on the closed door while the biker erupted into a livid but quiet tantrum, cursing the old man through his breath with every colourful name under the sun. Regaining his composure, he squared his shoulders and gripped the doorknob. There had better not be a Hunter back there...

"While we're young, son," Bill grunted.

"Your ship has sailed then," he shot back, swinging the door open and raising his shotgun immediately.

Dead silence. A quick sweep of the dark storeroom revealed that it was empty, save for a few empty cardboard boxes, and another closed door. However, the daylight shining in under it gave rise to the fact that it was a back entrance. Finally satisfied that they were alone, the four survivors regrouped at the front counter of the shop. Bill briskly walked over to the entrance, looked up at the sky, and then closed the door, locking it behind him. Not that it would do much; the Infected would have no qualms with coming in through the front windows.

"Okay, it's about midday, but we need to work fast," Bill said quickly. "We can't be caught outside after dark." Bill nodded to Francis and Zoey's backpacks. "You two pick an aisle and start scavenging."

"Can you fit any more into that med-kit?" she asked, motioning to the red bag on the old man's back.

He shook his head. "But that's a good thing. Medical supplies are priority. Now, get moving."

* * *

><p>Zoey sighed in annoyance, gazing down the third aisle she had hoped to plunder. So far, the only useful things she had been able to find were a hairbrush, a small bottle of antimicrobial hand-wash, and a forgotten packet of Doritos. All other food items had been looted, smashed, or otherwise rendered unusable. As she dropped the hairbrush into her alarmingly-empty backpack, she eyed the corn chips down hungrily. She knew that she should save the small packet to share with the others, but it was only a snack-size, small enough as it was...<p>

Zoey shook her head clear of the temptation and wandered down the aisle, sorely disappointed. It appeared that the director of this movie was a cruel one, making them waste time, energy and valuable daylight to loot an empty convenience store!

The former student blew out a breath in frustration, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. At least she could now use her new brush to restore some semblance of order to her dark brown hair. Suddenly, a small purple box caught her attention. It was sitting, almost deliberately, on a shelf devoid of anything else.

Zoey gazed at it thoughtfully. Should she grab some... feminine supplies? _That_ was something the directors always neglected in horror movies. They were all probably men. Without a second thought, she reached out and snatched the purple box up off the shelf, stuffing it into her backpack. Her eyes wandered down the aisle and caught something else that made her smile with glee.

"What's got your skirt so high?" came Francis' low voice from behind her.

She jumped in shock, before realising who it was. "Don't do that!" she scowled, to which she was answered with a smug grin.

"Sorry. Won't happen again."

Deciding not to unload a can of whoop-ass on him, not that it was even possible, given the height and strength difference, Zoey took a few quick steps down the aisle and picked the items off the shelf. Footsteps could be heard as the other two came around the corner to join them.

"Look what I found," she said happily, presenting a tube of toothpaste and four packaged toothbrushes to the group.

"Sweet!" Louis exclaimed, grabbing one eagerly.

Bill and Francis were slightly less enthusiastic, but grateful nonetheless.

"Typical that there's no _food_ in here," the burly biker said sullenly, stashing his new toothbrush in the practically-empty backpack under his care.

Louis opened his mouth to speak, but Bill cut him off. "No use sittin' around moping. Let's keep going. The hospital should be only a few blocks away."

He made to move off but Zoey quickly dashed in front of him. "Hold up," she blurted out. "I've gotta find a bathroom. I don't care if there are a _million_ Infected hiding in it, I've gotta brush my teeth."

"That can be done later – " Bill started, but stopped himself short when the girl shot him a look of daggers.

"Basic human hygiene, Bill."

He sighed in exasperation, but then made to follow her. "I suggest you two do the same," he said over his shoulder to the others. "I'm tired of nearly gagging every time one of you opens his mouth."

Francis did not bother to reply; he was otherwise preoccupied rummaging through a sticky mess of smashed sauce bottles on a nearby shelf in a vain search for something to eat.

"Hey Francis," Louis piped up cheekily from behind him. "You ready to be cheered up?"

"Not by you." Without warning, Francis felt something hard hit him on the back of the head. "Ow! What the fuck!" he exclaimed, rubbing his head as he turned angrily. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he was met with the sight of Louis tearing open a packet of beef jerky. "Where... Where did you get that?"

The former business man did not answer; his mouth was already full of the dry, salted meat. However, he motioned down at the floor, where a second packet of jerky was lying.

"You beautiful son of a bitch..." Francis gushed, scooping up the packet, eagerly ripping it open and popping a whole piece into his mouth in all but a few seconds. He chewed slowly, savouring the glorious taste. "I take back everything I said about you. You're not completely useless."

Louis smiled at the "compliment", although he hoped that Bill and Zoey had nicer things to say when he shared the rest of the jerky with them.

* * *

><p>Bill left the bathroom and found Zoey waiting near the front counter of the store. "Good find with those toothbrushes." He frowned when there was no response. "You okay?"<p>

He came up to the former student and followed her gaze; a couple of disembowelled teddy bears sat on the counter, their stuffed insides spilling out over the wooden surface and onto floor.

"I'm so glad I haven't had to shoot any children yet," she said tentatively. "I don't think I'd be able to do it."

"You'll have to do some bad things before this is all over," Bill replied in a grim tone, keeping a weathered eye on the door and windows. "We'll all have to, if we want to stay alive."

"Yeah," Francis boomed suddenly from behind them. "And if all the kids in this city are now fucked-up little monsters, we don't have much of a choice do we?"

The others stared at him, appalled by his choice of words. Zoey seemed particularly enraged. Without thinking, she stepped forward and swung her fist, striking him in the face with all the strength she could muster. Though he hardly flinched, he still looked surprised as hell.

"Those are _people_ you're talking about!" she yelled. "Sick people! Not monsters!"

"Keep it down!" Bill hissed, raising his assault rifle to point it at the door.

A loud, soulless moan rose up in the street outside, followed by a sorrowful chorus that made the hairs on the back of Louis' neck stand on end.

"Get away from the door," he whispered.

Everyone slowly backed away into the dim store; the thumping and banging started on the door moments later. There was no way of knowing how many Infected were out there, but it sounded like a lot. The crunching of broken glass could be heard, and Bill realised that the intruders were climbing in through the shattered windows.

"We'll leave from the back," he hissed urgently.

"Why? We can take 'em," Francis protested quietly, to which the older man furiously shook his head.

"There's no tellin' how many are out there, and we're low on ammo. We're leaving _now._"

With that, the survivors crept down the aisle to the storeroom. Zoey carefully turned the doorknob, doing her utmost to make as little noise as possible. She felt extremely guilty; her outburst at Francis had brought this danger down on all of them. Bill could hear the sound of footsteps and shuffling throughout the store as the intruders came closer. Once everyone was through the doorway, he quietly closed the door behind them.

"It seems like they were just investigating the noises they heard," Louis observed as they crossed the dark storeroom. "I don't think they know we're here."

"Let's keep it that way," Bill grunted. "If we broadcast ourselves any more than we already have, they'll be on us like bats outta hell."

Francis reached the back door first and recklessly yanked it open all the way, earning a disapproving scowl from Bill, illuminated on his wrinkled face by the light streaming in through the doorway. The biker blatantly ignored this however, the silhouette of his head swaying as he checked the alley outside for danger, before motioning the others through. They cautiously moved down the alleyway back to the street, where Bill carefully checked around the corner. Luckily, there were only a few infected people shambling along the roadside, and they were quite far away. Most of the others must have entered the convenience store.

"Let's go," he said urgently. "Take it slow and easy, and let me handle any stragglers with the knife. We try not to make any noise, but if you gotta shoot, make Goddamned sure the first burst does it."

The party made their way through the streets slowly and carefully. There were no incidents, save for a couple of times where the others waited out of sight while Bill crept forward to dispose of a lone Common Infected in the road. Fortunately, with the element of surprise on his side, the engagements were kept quiet and brief. Francis was chomping at the bit to put them out of their misery with his shotgun, but the glares Bill had given him had prompted him to yield begrudgingly.

"You almost seem like you're enjoying this," Zoey hissed at him while Bill moved to silence another infected woman further up ahead.

Francis did not say anything to that, his face unreadable.

"These are _sick people_ we're killing, Francis," she persisted, undeterred. "How would _you_ feel, knowing someone enjoyed killing you if _you_ were infected?" She looked to Louis for support, but he merely shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

"You're right, I _am_ finding this fun," the biker replied casually. "Better than any video game I've played."

_This isn't a video game,_ Zoey thought to herself, quite disturbed by what she had just heard. Fun? _Really?_ She looked over to see Bill ushering them forward, and glanced at Francis once more before resuming the march. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering about one of the men in whom she had placed her trust for her survival.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Bonus Round: See if you can spot the Zombieland reference.

Thanks for reading this far. Hopefully I can do the game justice as we approach the finale.


	12. Chapter 11: The Hospital

**Chapter 11: The Hospital**

* * *

><p>The longer the survivors spent on the ruined streets of the post-apocalyptic city, the further their hopes sunk. So far, they had encountered no other survivors. Hopefully, some people had been able to escape from Fairfield with their lives.<p>

The silence over the group was a tense one, and not solely due to the constant and intense fear for their lives. The rift that had developed between Francis and Zoey seemed to have put everyone on edge. The last thing they needed was the party tearing itself apart from within. Was it not enough to have ravenous monsters trying to tear it apart from without?

"There it is," Bill suddenly said in relief, pointing at a tall building directly ahead. "Mercy Hospital."

"About damn time," Francis grunted irritably. His feet were killing him; the blisters on his soles were testament to the fact that he never did much walking in his past life, before the outbreak that had laid waste to the United States.

The survivors approached the hospital, eager to get off the streets. The hellish journey that had brought them here had taken its toll on them; they were battered, bruised, exhausted and stressed to the raw nerves. The prospect of a rescue within their reach seemed to be the only thing keeping them going. However, Zoey could feel her heart sinking even further to her toes as she looked beyond the glass entry doors to see total carnage. Brutally-beaten bodies, shattered furniture and countless piles of wreckage and rubble were strewn all over the lobby, while dark stains and bloody handprints covered the once-white walls. It was like looking into an abattoir.

"Are you sure there's an evacuation going on here, Louis?" she asked carefully, struggling to keep a quaver of anguish out of her voice.

"That's what the helicopter said," he replied, not doing as good a job of hiding his worry. What if he had not heard the pilot properly? Had he led them all this way for nothing?

"Either way, we don't have much daylight left. We should get off the streets," Bill said gruffly, urging them into the hospital. They meandered through the destroyed lobby, amid the death and destruction.

As Bill looked around the hospital, violent memories suddenly flashed through his head.

* * *

><p><em>The nurse and surgeon stood overhead, their figures silhouetted by the bright lights of the operating theatre. "I'm going to count down from ten, okay Bill...?"<em>

_"Yeah, alright..."_

_"Ten... Nine..."_

_Vision going blurry..._

_"Eight..."_

_Hazy vision... Eyelids heavy... Blood...? The nurse doubled over, a hand to her mouth..._

_"Sev – Seven...?"_

_Blood._

_What?_

** "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**

* * *

><p>"Mercy was overrun," Zoey said suddenly in a hopeless voice, breaking Bill out of his reverie. He looked around to see his party picking absently through rubble, searching for supplies presumably. However, their lack of animation was an indication that they were at the end of their emotional tethers. They needed to rest. But they could not do that down here.<p>

"People were being evacuated from here," Bill said authoritatively. "My best guess is that the helipad on the roof is the best place to go. We might even find a radio."

The group made for the elevators, but found the doors completely blocked by flaming rubble.

"Don't tell me we're going to have to walk up the stairs," Francis groaned.

"Well, feel free to stay down here," Bill replied dryly, moving toward the stairwell doorway. The burly biker sighed warily and followed him.

The grizzled veteran reached the door to find it ajar. However, as soon as he pushed it open, an empty metal bucket that was balanced precariously on top of the door clattered noisily to the ground. The others looked up in shock and then, to their horror, they heard the sounds of scurrying feet running toward them.

"We've got company!" Bill cried, raising his rifle.

Several moments later, several infected people came storming out of nearby rooms, only to be cut down by withering gunfire. Francis constantly pumped new rounds from his shotgun, sending Infected flying backward in a blast of gore with each shot, while Zoey and Louis stood back to back just outside the stairway, firing continuously. Bill's M-16 spat flame in a long burst, blasting away several attackers in a continuous flash of light that consumed his last clip. He cursed and tossed the rifle aside, drawing a pistol.

"Don't let them close the distance!" he yelled, splattering a man's brains across the wall.

A buckshot round tore open an infected woman's body, but another one closed in from the side almost immediately, snarling furiously. Francis cried out as her hands shoved him to the hard floor. He looked up fearfully to see the attacker flexing her claws, and he raised his arms to protect himself as best he could. Suddenly, a hail of bullets tore into the woman's chest, sending gouts of blood flying into the air, covering Francis' face. Grimacing with the foul smell as he rose to his feet, he looked over at Bill and acknowledged him with a grateful nod.

Thirty furious seconds later, the last Common Infected had fallen, in a viscous snarl. The look on its face as it died was one that Bill would never forget. He had seen it before too many times.

* * *

><p><em>"I'm going to count down from ten, okay Bill...?"<em>

** "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**

_Blood...? Lots of it, everywhere. The surgeon brutally killed by the nurse before his very eyes. This was not a dream._

Have to stay awake...

Can't think...

Don't black out.

Goddamn drugs, they...

Stay awake!

_Bill struggled to focus his pupils, and then realised the blood-covered nurse was looking directly at him. There was an insane glint in her eyes._

No... _he thought frantically, his blood running cold._

_He silently screamed at his leg to work. He managed to bring his foot up and kick the nurse in face, sending her crashing to the floor._

_Oh, Jesus, Bill's mind whirled as he dragged himself up from the operating table, tearing off his face-mask. Is this real? Is this happening?_

Run!_ The back of his mind yelled at him._

_The aging veteran ran out of the operating theatre and down the hallway, struggling not to pass out with the searing pain shooting through his body._

Don't panic. Don't black out.

Everything hurts...

Stay with it! Find something sharp. Kill it. Then get home...

_Bill threw himself through a doorway and found himself in an operation prep room. Spying a bone-saw lying on the counter, he willed his hand to pick it up._

** "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"**

_The nurse was right behind him, her entire face and chest covered in blood. Bill wasted no time and swung the bone-saw with all his might, aiming for her neck._

SPLAT.

* * *

><p><em>THWACK!<em>

The haunting memories were interrupted by a loud _CRACK._ Bill looked over to see Francis caving the skull of a still-twitching body with his boot. Zoey and Louis both looked disgusted, but chose not to say anything about the grisly scene.

"Everyone okay?" he asked meekly instead.

"Still in one piece," Bill grunted, retrieving his assault rifle and slinging it over his shoulder.

Francis angrily kicked the bucket that had fallen. "What the hell was _that_ thing doing on top of the door?"

"Quiet!" Louis hissed. "What if there are more around?"

The survivors froze, listening carefully for any more movement nearby. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when it appeared that luck was with them for a change.

"It was an alarm system," Bill said observantly. "Set up by survivors. We might not be alone in here."

He set off up the stairs without another word, his pistol held down to his side. Zoey, Louis and Francis took one more look at the body-strewn lobby before following him, cautiously making their way up to the second floor. The stairwell door here was ajar like the previous one, with another bucket balanced on top. However, before Bill could open the door, he felt a strong pair of hands grab him from behind. His pistol fell from his grip as he was shoved roughly against the wall.

"Hands where I can see them, old man," came a rough voice from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to see a large black man behind him, pinning him against the wall. The man's hot breath washed down his face, and the older survivor could not help but crinkle his nose.

"Let him go!" came Zoey's voice from below. She was pointing her gun at the intruder.

_No, __Zoey!_ Bill yelled silently. _Turn __and __run!_

However, it was too late. The distinct sound of a rifle being cocked echoed throughout the stairwell.

"Drop your weapons."


	13. Chapter 12: Sanctuary

**Chapter 12: Sanctuary**

* * *

><p>"Drop your weapons."<p>

Louis, Francis and Zoey looked up to see another survivor crouched on the stairs further up, aiming an assault rifle at her. The former student promptly dropped her pistol and held both of her hands in the air above her head, Louis quickly following suit.

Their captor motioned at Francis. "You too."

"Oh, yeah?" he sneered. "What are you gonna do if I _don__'__t?_"

"Francis!" Bill snapped over his shoulder. "Just do as he says!"

The survivor above them realigned his aim at the biker's head. "I'll give you to the count of three." Louis and Zoey exchanged nervous glances. "One... Two..."

"Guys, wait!" she exclaimed. "What are we doing? We're all survivors here. We should be _helping_ one another. Not holding each other at gunpoint!"

There was an awkward silence following her statement.

"Please," she continued. "We fought our way through hell to get here. We just want to find the rescue."

After a few more moments, the two offending survivors hesitantly lowered their guns, while Zoey and Louis slowly lowered their hands.

"Sorry for surprising you like that," the black man behind Bill said, his dreadlocks swaying as the older man turned to face him. "We were just a little spooked when we heard our bucket fall over downstairs. We thought the Infected were making their way up."

"It's okay. Can't be too careful," Bill replied, offering his hand. "Name's Bill."

The large man took it in a strong grip. "I'm Trev." He gestured up at his partner on the stairs above them. "That's Andy."

Bill gestured to the rest of his group. "Louis, Francis and Zoey."

"Nice to meet you," she said shyly. "We're glad we're not the _only_ ones left."

Trev chuckled. "We have a couple more of our own further up. Follow me."

The six survivors turned and climbed up another couple of flights of stairs, Bill uttering a muttered curse every now and then.

"Don't like stairs, Bill?" came Zoey's voice from behind him.

"Not one bit," he grunted, pointing down at one of his knees. "Old war injury. Telling you now; climbing stairs with a stiff knee is not fun."

"Hey, Trev, right?" Francis called from further down the stairs. "There wouldn't happen to be working showers around here, would there?"

"As a matter of fact, there are," he answered. "Do you need one?"

"No. _You_ look like you do though."

Trev, however, laughed off the insult. "Real charmer we've got here."

_Francis __is __kidding __himself __if __he __thinks __he __doesn__'__t __need __a __shower,_ Louis thought in disgust. _I __can __smell __him __from __here._

Zoey, however, nearly exploded with excitement. "Sweet Jesus, a shower? _Yes!_ Are there washing machines too? I've been wearing these clothes for over a week."

"Yep, there are," Trev answered with a chuckle. "Don't worry, we'll have you four smellin' like roses again in no time." He finally stopped at the fifth floor. "Here we are."

He pushed the door open, and the others followed him into a hospital ward, just as desecrated as the lobby. He led them to the left down a dim hallway to the help desk, where there were two more survivors sitting down in cheap-looking white plastic chairs.

The older of the two stood up, fumbling with a Uzi rather clumsily. "Trev! Andy! Who are they?"

Bill stepped forward and offered his hand. "More survivors, son. We already got the shakedown from your colleagues."

"Glad someone else made it," the middle-aged man said, shaking his hand. "I'm Roger." He gestured to the younger black-haired man sitting in the chair behind him. "This is Joe."

"Pleased to meet you all," Joe said, standing up. He gazed over at Zoey and flashed her a warm smile. She reciprocated.

"If you don't mind me asking, why haven't you four been rescued yet?" Louis asked curiously. "I heard that there was supposed to be an evacuation here."

"There is," Trev said, gesturing to a battered-looking radio sitting behind the desk. "We were able to get in touch with one of the north-east safe-zones. They're going to send a helicopter, but they can't get one out until tomorrow morning, as they're all already out on other rescue missions."

Zoey felt her spirits lift dramatically with those words. So there _were_ other survivors out there...

Andy nodded at the newcomers. "You guys got here just in time."

Bill gave a weary sigh as he surveyed his surroundings. Although they had finally made it to Mercy Hospital, he knew that they were not out of the woods yet.

"How long have you been holed up in here?" he asked Roger.

"A few days. There were more of us before." The man's voice was laced with regret.

"That was before the Infected broke in?"

He nodded silently.

"How safe are we in here?" Bill asked.

"We managed to clear out this floor," Roger replied. "Well, _they_ did most of the clearing," he added, motioning to the younger men of his group, who were quietly mingling with the others. "I'm not much of a fighter."

"What _do_ you do?"

"I'm a doctor. I was supposed to leave on the last helicopter, but it was full, so I volunteered to stay behind and treat any new survivors who showed up."

"I'm glad you did," Bill replied. He nodded toward Louis. "My friend was badly-injured. He needs medical attention."

Roger nodded. "I can only do so much, though. As you can see, the more advanced equipment isn't exactly in working order."

Bill turned to address the rest of the survivors. "Okay, it turns out that our friend Roger here is a doctor. Looks like you lucked out, Louis."

_If __he__'__s __not __already __mutating __in to __a __bloodthirsty __freak,_ Francis thought to himself.

"We're going into the next room to let Roger work," Bill continued. "You all keep watch out here."

With that, he and Zoey helped their friend into a nearby private room. They sat him down on the bed, and Roger started removing the bandages that had been wrapped around his chest. He clicked his tongue when Louis' chest was revealed.

"Hm, this _does_ look pretty nasty. I'll need to clean the wounds to get a better idea of what I'm dealing with..."

As the doctor worked, Zoey and Bill walked over to the door.

"I'll watch Louis," he said to her. "You and Francis should restock on ammo."

"But – " she started to argue.

Bill cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Look, Zoey, we're all dead on our feet. But I need you both to see what ammo you can scrounge up. This hospital is still swarming with the Infected."

She finally nodded and walked back to join the others, while Bill plonked himself down on a chair just outside Louis' room. Without realising it, he immediately slumped down, with his beret sliding down over his eyes.

* * *

><p>Francis threw himself into a chair gratefully and stretched out, while Trev and Andy cleaned their guns.<p>

"So, you're the ones who've been holding the fort, huh?" he said absently.

"Yep," Andy replied proudly. "You wouldn't believe how many Infected I've popped."

The large biker snorted. "Bet I've popped more."

"You guys wouldn't happen to have any food, would you?" Zoey suddenly piped up.

Andy gestured to the nearby kitchenette. "Help yourself to anything not rotting. Hospital _was_ stocked with food, but we're starting to run low on supplies."

Francis grunted. "Ain't nothin' like crappy hospital food." He looked over to see Trev shaking his head. "What's up with you? Got a problem with bikers?"

"Nope," the large man replied. "Just you."

"Oh, yeah? And why's that?"

"You're startin' to become a pain in my ass," he said, standing up menacingly.

Francis rose to meet him, and they both stood face-to-face for a moment, sizing each other up.

"Okay, boys. Put the rulers away, zip up," Zoey said suddenly, tapping them both on the shoulders.

She pushed her way through the middle of them, forcing them both to step back and earning her a scathing look from Francis. She passed through into the kitchen and emerged a few moments later, carrying an assortment of candy bars. She threw one to Francis, who deftly caught it with one hand.

Joe chuckled. "Trying to keep up a balanced diet?"

Zoey opened a candy bar and bit into it hungrily. "Well, there wasn't much else in there besides rotten apples, rotten bananas, rotten broccoli... oh, and some powdered custard."

"Trust me, the custard tastes better than it looks," Joe said, smiling.

"There's another kitchenette on the far side of the ward. There should be more food in there," Andy offered helpfully.

"Well, I'm just looking forward to some _real_ food again once we get to the safe-zone," Trev yawned, sitting back down in his chair.

"Hey, Trev," Zoey said. "You were saying before that there are showers around here?"

"Yeah, but you gotta be careful. We managed to clear out this floor, but there are still Infected all over the hospital."

Joe stood up. "Come on," he said gently. "I'll show you where they are."

After he and Zoey had gone, Francis turned his head toward Andy. "Hey, my group is runnin' low on ammo. Do you have any to spare?"

"We have some spare pistol clips, as well as a few rifle magazines."

"We're gonna need 'em."

"Well, you're gonna have to _earn_ them," Trev said gruffly.

Francis' eyes narrowed in challenge. "And how's that?"

Trev grinned, and produced a pack of cards. "Ever played Texas hold'em?"

* * *

><p>"So here they are," Joe said, leading Zoey into the shower room; a tiled room with curtain-covered cubicles. "I'm sorry to say that the hot water is long gone, but it's a small price to pay to feel human again."<p>

Zoey, however, was too busy grinning from ear-to-ear to answer. She moved toward the nearest cubicle and pulled off her track jacket revealing her white vest. She turned back to see Joe still standing guard. He was facing away from her, watching the bathroom door.

She frowned and cleared her throat. "Um, a little privacy?"

"Oh, sorry! Sorry!" Joe stammered awkwardly. "It's just that we have to keep watch on the door, the Infected could come in... I'm really sorry. I'll go outside."

He quickly left the room, and Zoey smiled.

* * *

><p>Roger cleaned and dressed Louis' wounds, pausing for a moment when his patient gasped as a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his body.<p>

"Sorry," Roger said apologetically. "I'd use anaesthetic if there was any."

"Hey man, don't worry about it," Louis replied.

"I just wish the damn helicopter would hurry up and get here," Roger grumbled.

Suddenly, his attention was diverted by a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye.

_Did I just see something move past the window?_

Drawing his pistol, Roger approached the glass, and peered through it carefully. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw nothing threatening outside.

"What is it?" Louis asked nervously.

"Nothing," Roger replied, holstering his pistol. "Just my imagination."


	14. Chapter 13: Good Business

**Chapter 13: Good Business**

* * *

><p><em>Bill sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly ahead.<em>

_ The young doctor at the door tried to break the uncomfortable silence. "So... are you expecting any family?"_

_ Bill said nothing._

_ "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the young man stammered. "That's right. You... um..."_

_ Bill glared at the man. If looks could kill, the doctor might as well have laid down right there for the autopsy._

_ Regardless, he continued his vain attempts to initiate a conversation. "So. You're a veteran?"_

_ "It's Philadelphia Veterans' Hospital," Bill replied without looking up._

_ "It's actually a very common procedure. There's nothing at all to be worried about."_

_ "I didn't ask." Straining with the effort, the grizzled veteran reached over to the bedside table and fished out a cigarette from the packet lying atop his clothes._

_ "Oh, uh... yeah," the younger man said quickly. "You actually can't smoke in here. Sorry. I should have told you earlier."_

_ "You a doctor?" Bill asked, lighting his cigarette and inhaling a deep drag._

_ "Um, no. Not yet. I'm a resident," the student stammered nervously._

_ "That like a nurse?"_

_ "Not exactly. It means I'm studying to be a doctor... Ooo, Mr Overbeck, that cigarette..."_

_ Bill turned his head to face the 'resident'. "Kid? Go practice somewhere else."_

* * *

><p>"<em>...I'm going to count down from ten, okay Bill...?"<em>

** "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**

* * *

><p>Bill startled awake when he felt a hand grabbing him by the shoulder. His eyes shot open, and his right hand grabbed the offending arm at the wrist. His left hand was holding a knife to the attacker's throat a second later.<p>

"Whoa, whoa! Wait! It's me!" came Roger's voice from above him.

Bill released him after a moment. "Sorry..." he mumbled sheepishly. "You startled me, is all."

The shaken doctor made a mental note not to wake the old man physically again. "I had a look over Louis, and I have good news. While the injuries looked pretty bad, it turns out that they were just some nasty flesh wounds. The biggest danger was from him losing too much blood, but the bandages that you put on kept it minimal."

"He's going to be okay?"

Roger nodded. "I put twelve stitches in. He's resting now."

The wrinkles on Bill's face grew more pronounced as he broke into a smile. "I cannot thank you enough, Doctor."

The other man smiled in response. "That's the reason I stayed behind. As long as I manage to help _someone_ in this whole mess..."

The elder man stood up and clapped him on the back. "Putting your own safety in jeopardy to stay behind and help other survivors? You're a good man, Roger. Unlike someone in my group..." There was a thoughtful silence. "Tell you what, we'll leave him behind, and you can feel free to join us."

They both chuckled at that.

"How bad is it out there?" Roger suddenly asked somberly.

Bill sighed heavily. "I fought in Vietnam, and lemme tell you, even bein' in a _war_ doesn't prepare you for _this_." He waved his hand through the air in a wide gesture. "They come at you and come at you, and they never goddamn _stop_!"

* * *

><p>Zoey emerged from the shower shivering. Joe had been right, the water was ice-cold. But she was just glad to be <em>clean<em> again. However, she froze literally when she found that her clothes were gone; only one of those ugly green, knee-length hospital gowns had been left for her.

She felt shocked, confused, and then angry. Was this some kind of a practical joke? Get the only woman in the building into a gown which showed her _ass_ through the back? There was going to be hell to pay.

She threw the hospital gown on furiously, jammed her feet into her black and white sneakers and then stormed out of the bathroom, finding Joe standing guard nearby.

"Hey," he said. "How are – "

"Where are my clothes?" Zoey snapped.

Joe balked at the intense anger radiating out from her. "The old guy in your group came by and took all your clothes away to be washed, _intensely_. There are some tumble dryers here too, so they'll be ready for you to wear again pretty soon."

The former college student immediately calmed down, and flashed him an apologetic smile. "Oh... okay then. Sorry for being such a bitch just then."

"It's alright. How are you feeling?"

"Much better. And now that I know that my clothes are going to clean again, I'm pretty ecstatic." She came over to stand next to him as he kept his gun trained on the stairwell door. "Have the Infected tried to get in here?"

"A few times. Fortunately, there's only one staircase to cover."

"Stairs aren't the only way they can come in. They'd be more than happy to climb in through the windows."

Joe sighed. "Persistent little buggers, aren't they?"

Zoey raised her hands behind her head and started pulling her long brown hair back into a ponytail. "I can't get over how fast they all are – it's not even fair. I... I'm calling zombie bullshit on that, you know?" She giggled awkwardly. "I mean, zombies aren't supposed to be this fast. Sheesh! They're practically Olympic runners, for Christ's sake!" She glanced at Joe to see him looking her over with an amused expression on his face. "Oh... I wasn't rambling, was I?"

"No, just pointing out some very important foul play," Joe replied jokingly. "I'll alert the referees."

They both laughed at that.

"So, what's your story?" she asked him.

"The same as everyone else's. Just trying to survive," he said simply. "What about you? Do you have your family out there somewhere?"

Zoey looked away uncomfortably for a moment. Joe noticed this, and quickly changed the subject.

"I was passing through here on a road-trip with my best buddy. We drove all the way over from LA, and were making our way up to Canada."

"That would have been a nice way to spend the last few days of normality," the young woman replied, a hint of envy creeping into her voice.

"Yeah. Unfortunately, my friend got jumped at a gas station. One thing led to another, and now, here I am."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "Maybe there's a bright side to all of this."

Joe looked up. "I _did_ get to meet you."

Zoey smiled at him. They both made their way back to the help desk "command centre", where the ex-student had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Francis, big tough-guy Francis, with his ass visible in the back of a flowing hospital gown.

"Nice attire there, Francis," she teased, choosing to ignore the fact that she was wearing an identical gown.

However, the big biker was hunched over the wooden counter, too absorbed in a game of Texas hold'em poker with Trev to answer. Andy was watching them, a smirk etched across his face. Trev had a rather impressive pile of various supplies sitting on the counter in front of him, and Francis' small pile of his remaining ammunition looked rather pitiful by comparison.

He took in the two cards in his hand, and then moved a small blind of 3 shotgun cartridges to the middle of the counter, while Trev slid a big blind of two pistol clips across the counter to join the pot. He looked across at his opponent.

"Do you call the big blind?"

Francis hesitated for a moment, before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a can of baked beans. "I nearly had my balls ripped off by a raving, blood-covered bitch when I snagged this from a grocery store," he said, as he slid the can across the counter to join the pile in the middle. "That's worth _at least_ another M1911 clip."

The large black man sat in contemplation for a moment, before matching. "I see your raise."

He nodded at Andy, who proceeded to place three cards face-up on the counter. Queen of Hearts, Two of Spades and Three of Clubs.

"Raise a pistol clip," Trev said.

His opponent added three more shotgun shells to the pot to call. Another card was turned over. Six of Clubs. Another raise later, the fifth and last card was placed on the counter. The Queen of Diamonds.

Francis grinned triumphantly. "I raise ten shotgun shells. Your move, Bob Marley."

"Three M1911 clips to see the raise, Trev," Andy said warningly.

The man in question smiled confidently as he added three pistol clips to the pot.

Francis was taken aback. _Surely he doesn't have a Queen too?"_

"Show cards," Andy demanded.

Francis placed his hand face-up in front of him. "Three Queens."

Trev placed his hand down. Four of Spades and Five of Diamonds. "Straight."

"Shit!" Francis swore as Trev pulled the pot toward him, grinning smugly.

"You wanna go again?" he asked.

Before Francis could answer, Zoey stepped forward. "I'd rather you _didn't_ gamble away the last of our supplies, Francis," she snapped. "I'll take it from here."

Her compatriot shot her a look in disdain. "_Please_. You don't know how to play poker."

Zoey put her hands on her hips indignantly. "Nevertheless, Bill tasked me with getting us more ammo. Now move aside."

Everyone watched silently as Zoey and Trev were each dealt two cards. As big blind, Zoey was forced to place two of her pistol clips into the pot before the round had even begun. She felt slightly anxious to know that if she lost this hand, she only had one clip left for her M1911. She looked at the cards she had been dealt. Ten of Hearts and Seven of Clubs. Not much worth writing home about. Andy flipped over three cards, revealing the Seven of Diamonds among them.

_Sweet, got a pair already!_ Zoey thought to herself.

"I raise an M-16 magazine," Trev said suddenly, cutting into her thoughts.

"I call," she replied, adding her last pistol clip to the pot.

Andy turned over the next card. Ten of Spades.

_Two pairs,_ Zoey thought to herself. _Sweet Jesus, I could get a Full House here!_

_Three of a Kind,_ Trev thought to himself in satisfaction. "I raise two pistol clips and an M-16 magazine," he said, adding the ammunition in question to the pot. He looked over at Zoey, challenging her to see his bet.

She blanched. That was a _big_ raise.

"Well?" he piped up.

He fully expected his opponent to fold. However, he was shocked when she grabbed her group's first-aid pack and placed it on the table.

"Raise has been called," Andy said, placing the last card down on the table. Eight of Hearts.

_Shit!_ Zoey yelled in her head. _No Full House!_

"I raise another magazine," Trev said, a little more cautiously this time.

Zoey's mind was screaming in frustration, but she kept a calm and composed facade. _If he reads me, I'm done. _She calmly picked up her pistol and placed it on the counter. "I believe that's worth another five M-16 magazines."

Her opponent was visibly taken aback.

"You realise you've pretty much just gone all in?" Francis commented disapprovingly. _Amateur._

However, Trev threw down his cards in disgust. "I fold."

"Nice one, Zoey!" Joe said encouragingly.

"Hey, whose side are you on here?" his party member snapped.

The former student looked over at Francis to see that his jaw had hit the ground. "What? My campus room-mates were all card junkies."

"Nice play," her opponent said evenly. "What did you have?"

"I don't remember," she replied casually, burying her cards in with the others and erasing all evidence of her bluff.

* * *

><p>"I raise a magazine."<p>

"Call."

Several rounds later, a pot of impressive size was building in the middle of the desk. It was at that moment that Roger and Bill entered the room, each holding a pile of freshly-laundered clothes.

"Zoey!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"Securing us more ammo, like you asked," she replied without looking up from her cards.

Finally, Andy placed the last card down on the table. "Show cards."

"Two pairs," Trev said slowly, revealing his hand.

Zoey smiled and showed her cards. Like the opposition, she had identical two pairs. However... "My highest card is higher than yours," she pointed out.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" he cried incredulously. "Beaten by a _high card?_"

Zoey smiled sweetly. "Pleasure doing with business with you."

Trev looked shell-shocked for a moment. Suddenly, a wide smile broke out on his face, and he erupted in a roar of laughter.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Francis stood guard at the stairwell and Andy walked through the ward on a patrol, while the others slept. Zoey pointing out the windows to Joe as possible points of entry had severely spooked him. Andy was now being sure to check every room for Infected.<p>

_CRASH!_ His head snapped up with the sound of shattering glass nearby. He ran to the door and opened it, the cone of light from his flashlight revealing that the window in the room behind the door had been broken. A dark hooded figure was crouched on all fours on the floor in front of the shattered window, creeping forward slowly.

"Oh, shit..."

Suddenly, Andy heard growling _behind_ him. He looked over his shoulder to see _another_ hooded figure crouched in the hallway.

_**"RRRRAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIUUUU UUGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!"**_

With a terrifying scream, the predator pounced, knocking Andy to the floor with tremendous force. It raised its claws to strike.

"NO!" Andy screamed.

But it was too late.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

I realise I might have gotten a little carried away with the poker in this chapter. But I don't care. It was a lot of fun to write. While I was writing, I remembered the poker nights I had with some card sharks when I was living on-campus in Canada, and I'm no gambler by any means. Needless to say, I came out of them poorer, but with a lot of stories.

Anyway, I promise the next chapter will have more action and no poker.

Credit for Bill's flashbacks goes to _The Sacrifice_ comic.


	15. Chapter 14: Cat and Mouse

**Chapter 14: Cat and Mouse**

* * *

><p>Everyone awoke with a start to the sound of screaming coming from somewhere inside the hospital ward. The darkness felt horribly alive around them. They fumbled for their weapons, and flashlights came on moments later.<p>

"What's going on?" Roger asked fearfully.

"That's Andy!" Trev said, immediately running down the hallway. "We've gotta help him!"

"Trev, wait!" Joe started, but it was too late. He had already disappeared.

Andy's terrible screams continued for a few more moments, before a horrible silence fell over the hospital.

"Francis is still out there," Zoey whispered.

Bill nodded solemnly. "He's supposed to be guarding the stairwell." He loaded one of Zoey's prize magazines into his assault rifle. "I'm going to find him."

Zoey stood up, wielding a pump-action shotgun she had picked up from Trev. "I'll go with you."

"No, it's too dangerous – " Bill started to say, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"I don't care. I'm not letting you go off by yourself. We have to make sure that Francis, Andy and Trev are all okay."

The war veteran sighed in resignation. "Fine, but you stay with me _at all times._"

"I'm coming too," Joe said, standing up.

"No, you're not," Bill snapped. "Roger's not much of a fighter, and _someone_ needs to look after Louis. You're staying with them."

Joe opened his mouth to argue, but Zoey looked at him.

"Please, look after Roger and Louis," she asked softly.

After a moment of hesitation, he finally nodded.

Bill turned to Roger. "Barricade yourselves inside Louis' room. Watch the windows, too. Shoot anything that tries to get inside."

With that, he and Zoey hurried off into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Shards of glass crunched under Francis' boots as he surveyed the broken window before him by his shotgun light. The curtains in front of the window billowed in the wind. He swept the light along the floor and discovered a large, dark puddle of blood on the floor outside the room. He shone his flashlight down the hallway to see a dark trail of blood along the floor, leading away from the puddle and around a corner.<p>

His ears perked up – he had just heard a footstep nearby. He quickly moved into the room, crouched down and readied his shotgun. The curtains continued to billow softly. Francis listened carefully, and heard another sound. It was closer than the last. He switched off the light and trained his shotgun on the door, waiting for whatever was out there to pass by. The sound of glass crunching underfoot sounded, right outside the door.

The biker wasted no more time. He yelled, raised his shotgun and fired, blasting a hole through the plaster wall.

"Jesus Christ, it's me!" came Trev's voice from out in the hallway.

Francis switched on his flashlight and went up to the door to see the large black man standing there, looking none too pleased.

"You nearly shot me!" he growled.

"My bad," Francis replied sheepishly.

Meanwhile, his compatriot was taking in the scene in front of him. He paused when he saw the large puddle of blood on the floor. "Oh, God. Andy..."

Francis was at a loss for what to say. "...Sorry for your loss," he finally offered.

Trev shot him a scathing look. "He could still be alive."

With that, he moved off down the hallway, following the trail of blood. Francis sighed and followed him.

* * *

><p>Zoey trailed Bill through the hallway, stopping against the wall whenever he held up his palm. Whenever they stopped, they listened in vain for any sounds, before moving on. They walked down the hallway without incident and soon reached the stairwell door to find it wide open. Francis was nowhere to be seen.<p>

"They've gotten inside," Bill murmured.

With no warning whatsoever, a loud screech echoed throughout the hallways. Zoey jumped with fright, while Bill gripped the stock of his rifle tightly. The sound was all too familiar...

"The Hunters!" Zoey suddenly realised. "They're in here!"

"Damn it!" the old man swore. "Those bastards are gonna keep on finding us, aren't they?"

Zoey gripped her shotgun and looked around nervously, as though she expected a Hunter to leap out of the darkness at her at any moment.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

"We have to take them out," Bill said solemnly. "There are two Hunters out there. That's more than enough to pick us off one-by-one."

* * *

><p>Trev moved down the hallway, the light from his M-16 illuminating the trail of blood along the floor. His <em>friend's<em> blood. He fervently hoped that Andy was still alive, but his hopes were rapidly waning. Francis covered him, glancing into rooms that they passed by to check for danger.

"I really think we should get back to the others…" he murmured.

Trev whirled around and glared at him. "And abandon Andy? _You_ can go ahead and go back, if you want. I'm gonna keep going."

With that, he turned back and continued down the hallway. Francis sighed and started to follow him, but stopped when he heard something behind him. He could have sworn that he heard the sound of running feet, but it was so quiet, he was not sure if he had imagined it. Francis whirled around and aimed his light back in the direction they had come from, but there was nothing to be seen behind them. Nothing at all.

"Did you hear that?" he hissed to his compatriot but received no answer. He looked back to see that Trev was getting too far ahead for his liking. "Goddamn it," he muttered under his breath, and moved off to catch up with the other man, harbouring the unpleasant feeling that they were being followed.

* * *

><p>The two survivors moved carefully through the ward. Zoey had wanted to go back to Louis' room to link up with him, Roger and Joe. Bill, however, had convinced her that their chances of survival would be better if they found Trev and Francis before the Hunters did.<p>

_I hope the Hunters haven't found them already,_ Zoey fretted.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of pattering feet coming from down a hallway off to her left. She stopped dead and quickly pointed her shotgun down the hall, her light showing nothing immediately. However, she could have sworn that she saw a blurred shadow disappearing around a corner.

"Bill!" she hissed. "I think I saw something."

He came back to her side immediately and they both held their position for a moment, considering the next course of action.

"Okay, I'm going up there," Bill whispered carefully. "I need you to hang back a bit and cover me. If one of those bastards _is_ around the corner, and he pins me, I'll need you to protect me."

Zoey nodded silently.

"Use the M1911," the veteran said, voicing his experience. "A shotgun blast at this range could hit me, too."

She nodded once more, slinging her shotgun over her back and drawing her pistol. With a final nod at each other, they switched off their lights so as to not give away their positions. The old man advanced carefully down the hallway and came up to the corner. With a deep breath, he looked around it.

**_ "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"_**

The distinct scream of the Hunter exploded in Bill's ears. He quickly turned on his light to see a blurred shadow flying through the air at him. Before he could shoot, he felt a clawed hand strike him across the face. He was sent flying across the hallway into the opposite wall and crumpled to the ground.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

The hallway lit up with muzzle flashes as Zoey fired her pistol at the Hunter. However, the creature was much too fast, expertly dodging each shot. It waited patiently for a lull in Zoey's fire and then pounced again, colliding with her and knocking her to the floor.

"Get it off! _Get it off!"_ she shrieked.

Gunfire erupted as Bill's M-16 leapt into roaring action. The Hunter managed to leap away from Zoey toward a corner, but caught several bullets to the arm. It shrieked with pain as it disappeared around the corner.

"You get your pansy, prancing ass back here!" Bill shouted, charging after it. However, when he reached the corner, the Hunter had already disappeared. The old man shook his head angrily as he ran back to Zoey, who was climbing to her feet. "You alright?"

She nodded, shaken, but otherwise unharmed. Her partner, on the other hand, had an angry slash across his cheek from where the Hunter had swiped at him.

"You're hurt, Bill," she said worriedly.

"Just a scratch, kid," he reassured her.

* * *

><p>Trev and Francis followed the trail forged in Andy's blood for a while longer, Francis occasionally glancing over his shoulder to check for danger that could be creeping up on them.<p>

"Shit!" Trev suddenly hissed.

"What?"

"The trail. It ends here."

"What do you mean, it ends?" his partner said, pushing forward.

"The blood. It just stops right here."

"That can't be good..." Francis murmured.

Their thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of shouting and gunfire from nearby. They listened carefully and heard distinct pistol shots, followed by automatic gunfire. The sounds of battle lulled as quickly as they began, and silence fell over the hospital once more.

A loud chorus of growls echoed suddenly throughout the hallway, causing the hairs on the backs of their necks to stand on end. The noise seemed emanate from the very walls and ground. Thankfully, the fearful sound was gone as soon as it came.

"It sounds like the Infected downstairs are gettin' riled up..." Trev said slowly.

A loud screech startled them yet again. A dark shadow burst from around the corner as Trev raised his M-16. He fired off a burst, but the creature leapt out of the way, digging into the wall, and then diving at him. The large man ducked and held up his rifle to protect himself from the Hunter's claws. They screeched and scraped across the cold metal of the gun as the creature flew over him. Just as it was directly overhead, Trev let himself fall onto his back, and then thrust his boot upward, kicking it in the chest. It growled in pain and toppled to the floor behind them.

As Trev and the Hunter struggled to their feet, a shotgun blast pierced the air as Francis blew it off its feet. The deafening _BOOM_ was followed by a loud wail of pain. Trev climbed to his feet and carefully aimed his M-16 at the mangled Hunter lying on the floor. It was still alive, gurgling and hissing. The large man strode right up to it and pressed the barrel of his rifle against its head.

"This is for Andy, you son of a bitch," he hissed.

* * *

><p>Zoey looked up worriedly when she heard gunshots nearby. "That could be Francis!"<p>

She and Bill advanced carefully through the dark hallways. The gunshots stopped momentarily, before the loud _BOOM_ of a shotgun discharge echoed throughout the corridor.

"At least we know there are two people out there," Bill remarked.

He stopped dead when he heard a low growl right beside him, and turned his light to find himself face-to-face with the gaping maw of a Hunter. It screamed and swiped its claws at him. Bill yelled out as he ducked, swinging his rifle butt and whacking the creature in the stomach, causing it to stumble back a few steps.

_BOOM!_

A round from Zoey's shotgun at point-blank range annihilated the Hunter's head in a foul explosion of blood, which splattered all over the wall behind it. Chunks of flesh slid down the wall, as the Hunter's headless body slumped to the ground. Zoey and Bill aimed their weapons in opposite directions down the hallway to make sure that nothing else was coming for them, and waited for their hearts to stop racing.

"Nice shot, kid," he complimented her.

Soon, the hallway echoed with the sounds of running feet coming toward them. They aimed their weapons toward the noise, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. The footsteps stopped just around a corner, followed by a tense silence.

"Identify yourself!" Bill finally called out.

Francis' voice came from around the corner. "It's me and Trev!"

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, and reunited in the middle of the hallway. Trev shone his light over the grim sight of Zoey's kill.

"Glad to see you guys got one," he said. "We got the other one."

"Thank God," Zoey sighed.

Meanwhile, Francis shined his light over Bill's face, seeing the scratch the Hunter had given him across his cheek, and he visibly stiffened. Trev was more direct and to the point, aiming his gun directly at Bill's head.


	16. Chapter 15: The Horde

**Chapter 15: The Horde**

* * *

><p>Trev's hand trembled slightly as he aimed his rifle at Bill. He did not like this one bit, but it had to be done.<p>

"Trev!" Zoey gasped.

"He's infected," he growled. "I'm sorry, Bill."

"Wait! Stop, please!" Zoey exclaimed. "We went through this exact same thing with Louis. But he's _immune_! So there's a chance that Bill could be too."

The tall man did not lower his weapon. "The chances of that are very slim, Zoey."

"So, what? We should just _shoot_ him without even giving it a chance?"

"She's tellin' the truth, son," Bill spoke out. "Francis here was about to pump Louis full of buckshot, but we managed to convince him otherwise."

Trev turned to the biker beside him. "That true?"

Francis gave a small nod. Trev finally lowered his gun, but he still looked uneasy.

"Come on," Zoey said, leading them back toward Louis' room. "Louis can explain it better."

* * *

><p>A short while later, after resetting the doorbucket alarm system, they were all standing in Louis' room as he retold his story to the others. Joe came to stand next to Zoey.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said quietly.

She gave him a small smile in return. However, she was seriously worried about Bill. What if he wasn't immune…?

"…and that's it," Louis said as he finished his story.

"Amazing… Although, I suppose that there are always anomalies with new viruses," Roger mused.

"How long does it usually take for someone to turn?" Trev asked.

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say. Everyone's different. Most cases I've seen, the patient turns a few minutes after they've been infected. However, I've seen a couple of people take as long as an hour or two to turn."

Bill turned to face the group. "We've been immune so far, but..." He paused to look at the scratch across his face in the reflection of the window and sighed heavily. "Well, if I start to turn, promise that you'll shoot me."

There was a sombre silence.

"What if just your beard starts to turn? Can I shoot that?" Francis deadpanned, uncharacteristically trying to lighten the mood.

Bill chuckled. "You're an idiot."

Everyone was startled by a loud howl echoing throughout the hospital ward, and their heads turned uneasily toward the door.

"What the hell was that?" Joe uttered.

Without another word, Francis and Bill grabbed their weapons and moved off to investigate the sound. Moments later, a loud metal _CLANG_ sounded – the door/bucket alarm system had been tripped. Staccato gunfire erupted a second later.

"Shit!" Zoey cried, rushing to the bed and helping Louis to his feet.

Joe and Roger grabbed their Uzis, and everyone rushed out of the room to see Bill and Francis slowly retreating back toward the help desk, sending a hail of lead down the corridor.

"What the hell is going on?" Roger yelled over the noise.

"The Infected have broken through!" Bill yelled. "All that noise we made shooting at those damn Hunters must have attracted their attention!"

"This is bad, this is really bad…"

"Ha!" Trev hollered, raising his M-16 to his shoulder. "Let 'em come! My trigger-finger's been itchin' all day!"

The seven survivors opened fire with their various weapons, their combined efforts tearing through the Common Infected as they ran down the corridor. However, Roger caught a flash of movement to his left and swung his Uzi around to see more people spilling around the wall on the other side of the help desk.

"Shit!" he swore, taking down two of them with a burst of gunfire.

However, there were too many, and Roger was brutally tackled through a doorway into a side room. The other survivors looked back in fear when they heard him start screaming.

"Nooooo!" Joe yelled, rushing back to the door and blowing away the infected people mauling the doctor. However, he was too late. Roger was already dead, his intestines splayed out across the floor. "FUCK!"

Bill felt a pang of sorrow strike his heart, but did not let up on his stand. "Zoey, Louis, cover the other side of the desk!" he yelled over his shoulder. "We can't let that happen again!"

The former college student swung her shotgun around and blasted a haggard-looking man off his feet in a spray of gore, while Louis cut down two more with a withering burst from his submachine gun. However, the Infected kept on coming.

"Fall back!" Bill finally ordered, motioning them down a corridor behind him. The others complied, with the bloodthirsty horde hot on their heels. "We need to get to the roof!" the war veteran shouted.

"We can use the elevator!" Trev yelled back. "It still has power – "

However, he was cut off when a particularly fast infected man caught up with him and tackled him to the ground.

"TREV!" Joe screamed.

He stopped dead and resumed shooting at the Infected rushing them. The others stopped as well and fired their weapons down the hallway. Trev came up swinging – he had unsheathed a knife and was now fighting for his life. However, more and more Common Infected approached, replacing the fallen faster than the survivors could take them down. Trev was surrounded, but he kept on fighting. He was eventually lost from view.

Joe shouted angrily, firing his Uzi until it ran out of ammo. "Die, you bastards!" he yelled, casting it aside and drawing a pistol.

"We gotta keep moving!" Bill yelled, turning to retreat.

"Joe, let's go!" Zoey called, turning to follow her group.

She looked back in horror when she heard him cry out, just in time to see him get overwhelmed by several infected people. They bit, scratched, kicked and clawed at him mercilessly, oblivious to his screams of agony.

"JOE!" the young woman screamed, blasting away the attackers with several blasts from her shotgun. She ran over to his limp form lying on the ground.

"Zoey, what are you doing?" Bill yelled angrily. He, Louis and Francis stopped once more and resumed their cover fire.

She reached Joe to find that he was still alive, although badly injured. "Come on, we're getting out of here together." She put his arm around her shoulder and helped him to his feet.

The five remaining survivors made their way down the hallway in a fighting retreat, and threw themselves into a large, joined dorm. Bill leaned against the door, and several moments later, the incessant pounding began on the other side.

Zoey gently set Joe down on the bed and looked at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He smiled weakly. "Don't be... I... I'm not going to make it... But you and your friends can still escape..." He groaned in pain. "I... I'm glad I met you..."

She choked back a sob, grasping his hand tightly. Joe had already accepted that he was going to die. He was such a kind-hearted man. He did not deserve to die. None of them did. Why was this happening?

"Promise me..." Joe whispered, his vision fading. "Promise me..."

"Anything," she replied.

"Promise me... you'll stay safe..." He coughed up some blood, and then fell back to the pillow. "Good luck... and survive."

With that said, his eyes rolled back into his skull and his body went limp. Zoey let go of his hand and slowly backed away from the bed, raising her pistol. The pounding outside the door reverberated throughout the room, and a loud _CRACK_ of splintering wood followed momentarily as the Infected smashed a hole through the door.

"They're breaking in!" Bill yelled as he unloaded a burst from his assault rifle through the hole.

_** "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"**_

A strangled scream of animalistic rage erupted as Joe rose from the bed, vomiting blood all over the sheets. His eyes were fixed on Zoey, but there was no recognition in them. There was only hunger, and a ravenous desire to tear her flesh from her bones.

_BLAM!_

His head jerked back as blood spurted from the single bullet-hole in his forehead. He crumpled back to the bed, never to move again. Zoey lowered the still-smoking pistol, her entire body shaking violently. She had seen many terrible things over the past two weeks, but she had never witnessed a person turn before her very eyes before. It made her feel sick to her very roots.

Until now, Zoey had never had to shoot someone she knew or recognised. Aside from her very first kill at the initial outbreak...

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Shit!" Francis yelled as he fired another round through the hole in the door at a mangled arm reaching for him. "We have to get out of here!"

Zoey hurtled over to Bill and grabbed his shoulder. "Help me push the bed in front of the door!"

Together, they ran over to their friend's death-bed and pushed it up against the door.

The former student looked down at the body on the bed. "Thank you, Joe." She then looked over at a door on the far side of the room. "Through there! We'll be able to get around the Infected and make for the elevator!"

Francis fired off one more round through the hole in the door, before turning to follow the others out of the room.

* * *

><p>With the main horde held up behind them, the four remaining survivors charged through the ward, blowing away any straggling Common Infected that got in their way.<p>

"There's the elevator!" Louis shouted.

He and the others ran to the elevator and pushed the button to call it. He saw the number display at the top tick down as the elevator hurtled down the shaft toward their floor.

"Come on... come on..." he hissed through gritted teeth, pounding the button several more times, just as a large crowd of maniacs began to spill around the corner.

"They've caught up!" Bill yelled, opening fire with his assault rifle.

The others joined in, taking down the leading Common Infected. Bodies tumbled over each other and were trampled on as the horde clawed their way down the hallway in a desperate bid to reach the survivors.

"Come on, you fucking elevator!" Francis yelled, his shotgun blowing away an infected woman in mid-air as she leapt at him. Her blood sprayed down his front. "DAMN IT! NOT THE VEST!"

"Elevator's here!" Zoey yelled as the doors behind them opened. "Get in!"

The four survivors piled into the elevator and quickly punched the button for the roof. They continued to shoot through the doorway at the horde until the metal doors _finally_ slid closed. The sound of many fists pounding on the other side came a moment later. However, the noise faded as the elevator ascended.

Zoey and Louis leaned against the walls and slumped to the floor, breathing collective sighs of relief, while Bill reloaded his rifle.

"I hate elevators," Francis said as his gaze wandered. "I hate hospitals." There was a moment of awkward silence. "I hate helicopters."

Louis shook his head in a mixture of shock at just seeing his new friends die, and exasperation at Francis' stupidity.

"Before he died, Roger told me that the helicopter was supposed to be reaching the roof at 0700 hours." Bill looked down at his watch. "That's an hour from now. Once we reach the top, we make for the helipad."

"In case you've forgotten, there's a horde right behind us," Francis said sullenly. "They're probably climbing the stairs after us right now."

Zoey spoke up with renewed determination in her voice. "I promised the others that we'd escape. So we are going to escape. We have to defend the helipad until the helicopter arrives."


	17. Chapter 16: The Rooftop

**Chapter 16: The Rooftop**

* * *

><p>Bill took up position on the roof of a maintenance shack just above the helipad, while Francis crouched behind him, covering the ladder they had just climbed up.<p>

The veteran pointed over to another small service shack nearby. "Louis, Zoey, get up the ladder onto that rooftop and watch the stairwell door!"

"What about the ventilation ducts?" she yelled back.

"We've got them covered!"

With that, the four survivors took up their respective positions on the rooftop of Mercy Hospital as the sun rose over the horizon, giving a not-so glorious view of the ruined city.

"That helicopter pilot had better show up," Louis called over nervously.

Francis grunted. "If he doesn't, at least we'll die with a nice view of the city."

The stillness of the morning was shattered as Bill squeezed the trigger on his M-16, gunning down a couple of Common Infected that emerged from the stairwell. Their bodies convulsed for a moment, and then crumpled to the ground.

"Nice shooting, Bill!" Louis called out.

"There'll be plenty more where that came from!"

The cold, still air penetrated Zoey's jacket, and she shivered. She longed to get up and move around to get the blood flowing through her body. However, with the horde on its way up, she had to remain diligent for them to make it out of here alive. Everyone had to. For Joe...

"Look alive, people!" Bill yelled, as he gunned down several more Infected that rushed through the doorway. Blood splattered across the concrete, followed by bullet-ridden bodies moments later. "I can't be doing _all_ the shooting, you know!"

The clatter of gunfire echoed in the cold morning air, and Francis began to laugh as he killed two more Common Infected that emerged from the stairwell doorway. "Like shootin' fish in a barrel."

It was then that the loud, collective howl of countless infected people pierced the air, chilling the survivors to the bone. Zoey gritted her teeth and aimed her shotgun downward, mentally preparing herself for the onslaught.

"Oh, I _know_ this is gonna get bad..." Bill muttered.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Francis remarked. "Even if you don't make it, I'll still be really handsome."

The old man chuckled as he reloaded his rifle. He gazed across the rooftop at the small shack that Zoey and Louis were perched atop, and fervently hoped that he had not made a terrible mistake separating them like this.

"Here they come!" Louis yelled, fire dancing off the tip of his Uzi as he fired into a steady stream of people emerging from the stairwell.

Animalistic cries of agony and frustration split the air; sickening wet splats followed as heads burst in foul explosions of blood and bone, shattered by rounds from Zoey's shotgun. Bill and Francis consequently added their fire to the killing ground, liberally painting the hospital rooftop in front of the stairwell red with blood.

The Infected turned their heads, desperately seeking out the places from which death rained down on them from above. A number of them hurtled across the roof toward Bill and Francis' post, while others began to claw and climb their way up in a bid to reach the perch of Zoey and Louis.

"Aw, shit!" he yelled, ejecting a spent magazine and desperately grasping for another.

Zoey saw bony, decaying hands scrabbling over the edge of their roof. She quickly lowered her shotgun and blasted the foul appendages asunder, hearing inhuman shrieks of pain as the attackers fell from the roof.

"Keep an eye on the ventilation ducts too!" Bill yelled to his compatriot, expertly gunning down the offending Common Infected dashing across the roof before they could even reach their maintenance shed.

The roar of the horde grew louder as more and more Infected spilled from the doorway in a bloodthirsty rampage. Fortunately, the pile of dead bodies in front of the door partially blocked the way, and the attackers literally had to claw their way through a small mountain of corpses just to get out onto the roof of the hospital.

"I tell you what, after this, I am _done_ with hospitals!" Louis exclaimed, firing off a quick burst that sent a small group of people tumbling to the ground in a hail of fire. "A dislocated shoulder? No problem! A cancer cell? Give me a knife, and I'll cut the _mother_ out _myself!_"

"I don't think you pull of the 'badass' attitude as well as Francis," Zoey said lightly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she took down several more attackers below them.

"A man can try, right?" Louis laughed.

Zoey was about to reply, but the words caught in her throat and she felt the blood drain from her face. A burly, blood-covered man had climbed up to their level from the side, and was now eyeing her down hungrily. She swung the butt of her shotgun, striking him in the face and sending him stumbling backward. She then took hasty aim and blasted the man in the chest, sending him flying clear off the rooftop of the hospital. The wail of his death-cry faded as he fell far below, and she shivered.

A loud yell from Bill and a continuous staccato of gunfire across the rooftop caught Louis' attention, and he looked in alarm to see the veteran sending a hail of hot lead across the ventilation ducts. The Infected emerging from them howled with agony as bullets slammed into them.

"Francis, I told you watch the air-ducts, damnit!" Bill growled, sending the last attacker tumbling to the ground with a final shot. He ejected the spent magazine and crammed a fresh one in just below the barrel.

"Sorry, I'm just a _little preoccupied shooting motherfuckers!_" Francis roared back between the deafening booms of his shotgun.

The continuous stream of maniacs flooded the roof from the stairwell without any indication of letting up.

_I don't know how much longer we can keep this up..._ Bill thought worriedly.

Francis' frantic voice cut into his thoughts. "SHIT! They're climbing up the elevator shaft too! Are you fucking serious?"

The grizzled old man directed his gaze toward the new danger to see a massive crowd of Infected flow unhindered onto the rooftop of the hospital. Without any hesitation, he reached to his belt, pulled the pin off his last grenade and hurled it into the crowd.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

A bright flash of light and smoke reduced the head of the pack to a pile of bloodied remains that splayed across the rooftop, just as Zoey lifted her head to the sound of whirring helicopter blades. Her heart pounding in her chest, she looked toward the sound and spotted a news helicopter coming in to hover beside the helipad.

"CHOPPER'S HERE!" she screamed.

"GO! Make your way to the helipad!" Bill yelled back at her and Louis. "Francis and I will cover you from here!"

She and Louis gratefully leapt down from their post and began to run across the rooftop toward the metal ramps leading up to the helipad, firing at fleeting figures bearing down on them as they ran. Zoey lingered slightly behind to cover Louis' retreat, his movement speed slightly hindered by his injuries. The feisty young woman blew away two attackers at once with a blast from her shotgun, sending blood spurting into the air. However, she felt a rough force tackling her from behind, sending her crashing to the ground. She looked up in terror to see an infected woman above her, snarling with inhuman rage.

"HELP!" she cried out.

_SPLAT!_ A burst of rifle rounds slammed into the infected woman's head, blasting her away from Zoey, who quickly climbed to her feet and gave Bill a grateful nod. As soon as she and Louis made it up the ramp onto the helipad, they turned back around, crouched down and resumed firing into the infected crowd tearing across the rooftop. They covered Bill and Francis as they leapt down from their perch to join them. With a final sprint, the four survivors crossed the ruined helipad and threw themselves into the back of the helicopter.

"GO! GO! GO!" everyone screamed, and the pilot immediately manoeuvred the helicopter away from the building.

Several ambitious Infected leapt at the helicopter in a desperate attempt to board, but their plans were foiled by a controlled burst from Bill's M-16, sending them hurtling downward to their demise in the streets far below.

"I can't... believe it..." Louis gasped between grateful gulps of air. "We made it..."

Zoey gave him a high-five and broke into a wide smile as the helicopter flew across the city. Francis threw the compartment door shut, separating them from the morning sky.

_"You all okay?"_ the pilot's voice crackled through a speaker.

Louis looked through the door into the cockpit and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Thank you!" Zoey called out to him. However, the pilot motioned to the headphones covering his ears, and then pointed to a similar set lying on the backseat of the helicopter.

Bill picked up the headphones and placed them on his head. "Thanks for coming to rescue us," he said into the microphone of the headset.

The pilot turned his head back to the windshield to focus on his flying. _"You're welcome. Is it just you four, then?"_

The veteran nodded sadly. "Yes. There were four others in the hospital before us, but we got attacked by the Infected."

There was a sombre silence, through which only the steady thrum of the helicopter blades could be heard overhead.

_"Well, at least _someone_ made it,"_ the pilot finally said. _"Get some rest. I'm taking you folk to the north-east safe-zone."_

Bill nodded and sat back wearily against the seat. The four survivors sat in silence for a while, letting the reality of the situation sink in. They had been rescued. It was finally _over_.

* * *

><p>Francis and Louis drifted off into sleep as the sun rose in the sky, partially obscured by some dark clouds. Bill gazed over at the others, and finally discovered some sort of peace. He had done his duty. They were all finally safe, against all odds.<p>

Zoey, however, could not sleep after everything that had happened. She lost track of how long they had been flying in the helicopter, as she gazed out the window over the city that had once been her home. She wondered if she would ever be able to return. Something in the back of her mind told her that she would not be coming back any time soon.

Her thoughts were interrupted, and her head shot up when she felt the helicopter begin to jerk around erratically. She glanced over at Bill to see him look up in surprise as well.

He picked up the headset again and spoke into the microphone. "Hey, everything alright up there?"

However, the pilot did not respond. Zoey looked toward the cockpit in alarm to see him standing up, facing away from the doorway. What the hell was he doing? The helicopter jerked violently again, startling the others awake.

"Wha's goin' on..." Louis mumbled sleepily.

Zoey squinted ahead into the cockpit, just as the pilot turned to face her. Her blood ran cold when she saw the look of pure, soulless rage in the eyes staring back at her.

"Shit!" she cried, fumbling for her gun.

With an insane roar of anger, the pilot leapt through the doorway into the back compartment, bearing down on the frightened woman. A gunshot rang out, and a smoking hole appeared in his chest. With a pathetic squeal, he crumpled to the floor.

"Zoey, what the fuck!" Francis bellowed. _"You just shot the pilot!"_

Blinking lights began to flash, and an urgent-sounding alarm screeched throughout the helicopter as it lurched again, steadily losing altitude.

"Shit, _shit,_ SHIT! We're gonna crash!" Louis shouted.

Bill stumbled ahead into the cockpit and eased himself into the pilot's chair. With a sinking feeling, he saw that the helicopter was hurtling down toward an outer industrial district of the city. He gripped the control stick tightly and pulled up with all of his might.

"Come on, come on, pull up..."

"Bill, you know how to fly one of these things?" Louis cried out in shock.

"Not a damn clue!" he shouted back. He pulled harder on the stick, fighting desperately to stabilise the descent. "Come on, level out..." If the helicopter crashed at its current angle, none of them would survive.

Zoey, Louis and Francis quickly buckled themselves tightly into their seats and braced for impact. The ground was coming up to meet them at an alarming rate. Bill wrestled desperately with the control stick and finally felt the helicopter begin to stabilise in its fall. However, it was too little, too late.

With a sickening _CRASH_, a horrible shudder tore its way through the helicopter. An ear-splitting screech of rending metal and shattering glass exploded in everyone's ears. They were violently thrown around in their seats like ragdolls; their seat-belts straining against the impossible tension on them. With a final, shuddering _CRASH_, everything went dark.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

And that's it for No Mercy! I hope you all enjoyed the ride. Reviews are greatly appreciated, so please take the time to leave one.

Thanks for reading!


	18. CRASH COURSE: Chapter 17: The Alleys

**Part II: Crash Course**

"_Crashing will be the easiest thing they do today."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17: The Alleys<strong>

* * *

><p>Bill groggily opened his eyes as a flash of pain swept through his body. He groaned awkwardly and looked around to find himself lying amid a twisted shell of metal.<p>

_What the hell... Where am I?_

He looked through a shattered windshield to see a grim concrete courtyard filled with wreckage and debris. Suddenly, with a shock, it all came rushing back to him. The battle on the rooftop of Mercy Hospital. The rescue. The pilot attacking Zoey. The helicopter crash...

"Shit!" Bill swore, tearing himself out of his seat.

Pain shot through his leg, but he dismissed it. It was not that bad, probably just a flesh wound. He was more concerned about the others. And if the engine had caught fire...

"Help..." a weak voice called feebly from the back compartment of the helicopter.

Bill entered and looked over to see Louis struggling in vain with his seatbelt. "Louis! Are you alright?"

The black man's face was covered in cuts and bleeding in several places. "I'm fine. My seatbelt's stuck though; do you still have that knife to cut through it?"

Bill ignored his request and went to check on the others. They were still unconscious in their seats, but luckily their seatbelts had remained intact during the crash. He stumbled over to Zoey and placed his index and middle fingers on her neck, whooshing in relief when he felt a pulse.

"Bill!" Louis exclaimed. "Get me outta this chair! We've gotta get out of the chopper before it blows!"

The war veteran quickly made sure that Francis still had a pulse, before coming over to Louis' seat and cutting him free. "You can relax. There's no fire; the helicopter isn't gonna explode. Now help me wake the others."

Louis still looked nervous as hell, but he complied with the older man's instructions, bending over Francis and shaking him by the shoulders. "Hey man! Wake up!"

Bill gingerly stepped over the mutilated body of the pilot, regretful of the untimely demise of the man who had saved them from certain death. How the hell did he get infected, anyway?

"_Francis_! Don't make me bitch-slap you! 'Cause I _will_!" Louis exclaimed from across the helicopter.

Bill made his way over to Zoey's limp form and firmly shook her. "Zoey! Zoey, wake up!" The girl's face was cut and scratched in several places, but her pulse was still strong. "Come on, kid!"

Her eyes fluttered open, a confused gaze flashing through them. Suddenly, they widened in panic as she sat bolt upright. "Shit! The helicopter – we crashed!"

"Calm down," Bill said grimly. "Yeah, we did. But I managed to stabilise the fall. Count yourself lucky – the crash was nowhere near as bad as it could have been."

Zoey looked over to see Louis bending over Francis, who was just beginning to stir. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come on," Bill said, helping her out of her seat. "I don't know how long we've been unconscious, but it looks like it's moving into the late afternoon. We best be moving on."

She nodded glumly, looking down at the body of the pilot lying at her feet and feeling an intense pang of guilt and sorrow strike her heart. Barely an hour apart, two men had turned before her very eyes and she had been forced to kill them. She did not know how much more of this she could take.

* * *

><p>Francis glowered angrily as he surveyed the grim, outer industrial district of Fairfield that they had landed in. "See? I told you. Helicopter crashed. We're not saved. We're all gonna die. Pay up."<p>

"We'll be fine, Francis," Louis called out.

The biker turned toward him. "Hey, Louis! That fancy college of yours teach you how to fix a helicopter?"

"Have you tried turning it off and on again?" the other man deadpanned.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Less talking, more scavenging," came Bill's sharp voice.

Francis sighed and walked over to the helicopter, retrieving his shotgun. He kicked the wreckage angrily, and then saw the body inside the wreckage.

"Hey, Zoey. Here's the pilot, in case you wanna shoot him again."

"He was infected, Francis," Zoey sighed irritably. She could not find the shotgun she had been using, and was now reduced to a single M1911 pistol. Wonderful. Her thoughts were interrupted by Bill cursing loudly nearby. "You okay, Bill?"

"My M-16... Fuckin' _gone_..."

"I lost my shotgun, too," the young woman grumbled. "They must have fallen from the helicopter during the crash."

Bill searched the area for silence in a moment, and then came over to her, handing over a discarded crowbar he had found lying around.

She looked at the blunt instrument in disbelief. "What the hell am I supposed to do with _this?_"

"Hit stuff?" he suggested simply, bending over and picking up a rusty metal pipe.

Louis loaded a fresh clip into his Uzi and sauntered over. "So, what's the plan, guys?" There was an awkward silence. "We _do_ have a plan, right?"

"We march our sorry asses out of this Godforsaken city," the war veteran said sullenly. He strapped his newly-found metal pipe across his back, drew a pistol and then walked off, heading westward.

Zoey looked back at the crashed helicopter – their last hope – and choked back a torrent of foul language, before moving off after Bill. Louis sighed and followed them.

"Hey, Mr Positive!" Francis sneered as he fell in behind them. "Guess what? We just CRASHED! Got something positive to say about _that?_"

"We're walking away from it, aren't we?" he shot back over his shoulder.

There was a contemplative silence. "Yeah, alright... I'll give you that one."

* * *

><p>The group drifted between the ugly concrete buildings that adorned the landscape. Burning drums, piles of rubble and dead bodies littered the ground, while discarded newspapers tumbled through the alleys on the wind.<p>

"Man, what a shithole," Bill remarked.

"Well, we all know who to thank for bringin' us down here," Francis growled, glancing over his shoulder to shoot Zoey an angry glare. She scowled and looked away.

The ragtag little band made their way through the alleyways, saying very little to each other. Morale was at an all-time low. In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, Zoey giggled nervously. She looked around to see the others staring at her as though she was crazy, and decided to speak up.

"Okay, here's an important safety tip for you; don't get into a helicopter with an infected pilot." She did not receive so much as a smile, and felt rather downcast.

Francis glowered angrily. "Well, the next time someone offers us a ride, don't shoot him."

"He was INFECTED, Francis!" she exclaimed.

At that moment, rain started to fall.

"Aw, you're fucking _kidding me!_" the stocky biker exclaimed. "You know what would make this day even better? Two more Hunters! Hell, why not make it three?"

"Be careful what you wish for," Louis muttered under his breath.

"In here!" Bill called, motioning them toward a decrepit old warehouse.

The main roller doors were closed, but a service door off to the side was slightly ajar, giving them access into the cavernous building. Rain pounded on the corrugated roof and doors, the patter of water echoing throughout the stacks. The survivors stood in the doorway, aiming their flashlights into the darkness, alert for danger. Fortunately, the place seemed quite empty.

"Hm, I guess we hole up here for the night?" Louis asked.

Bill nodded grimly, fishing around in his pockets for rations.

"It's gonna be hard to sleep with that racket," Louis said as the patter of water grew louder as the rain increased.

The older man grunted. "When I did my tours in Vietnam, the rain _always_ came in at night. You find that the sound gets soothing after a while. It even helps you sleep." He dumped some packets of Mercy Hospital oatmeal on the floor. "We're gonna need some water to cook this stuff."

"You don't have any meat on you, do you?" Francis grumbled.

Bill shot him a withering look. "Go cut some off one of the bodies outside, if you're so desperate."

Zoey felt sick at the thought, and retched.

He looked at her concern. "You alright, kid?"

She gulped and gasped in some deep breaths. "Yeah, I'm fine... I'll go find us something to gather rainwater in..." With that, she wandered off into the stacks of shelves in search of a bucket.

"Stay close!" he called after her.

Ten minutes later, she had returned with a bucket brimming with rainwater. It seemed to be the one thing they had an abundance of. Bill was setting up a fire fed by newspaper on the floor near a front corner of the warehouse, while Francis was lounging around, being of no help whatsoever. Louis had done some searching of his own in the stacks and returned with three small bowls.

"Thanks for the water, kid," Bill said, mixing it in with the oatmeal and heating the mixture over the fire.

After a tasteless and unsatisfying dinner, the four of them sat around the dying fire. The newspaper burned too quickly for them to keep the fire going for long, and no one felt up to the task of going to look around for more tinder.

"Look what I found," Bill said presently, presenting a box full of empty beer bottles to the others.

"You plannin' on tradin' them in for ten cents each?" Francis remarked sarcastically.

"Better," the veteran replied, laying a dirty-looking rag next to the box. "We can use these to make Molotov cocktails."

"Sounds tasty."

He shot the biker an unfriendly glare as he produced a canteen bottle. "I took the liberty of siphoning some petrol from the helicopter when we crashed, instead of standing around, whining."

Francis did not bother to reply.

Louis, however, was excited with the idea. "Fire in a bottle? What's _not_ to love about that?"

"I figure we can carry one each, maybe two in the case of Zoey and I, since we both only have pistols."

With that, he, Louis and Zoey undertook the mundane task of making Molotov cocktails. The young woman tore off a strip of rag and stuffed it deep into a petrol-filled bottle, being sure to pack it tight. She looked over at Francis to see him methodically inserting shells into his shotgun.

_Slide. Click. Slide. Click._

"Aren't you going to make a Molotov for yourself?" she asked.

"Nope."

_Slide. Click. Slide. Click._

"They'll come in handy," she persisted.

Francis gave off a heavy sigh, a clear indication for her to leave him alone. Zoey, however, had had enough.

"What's your problem?" she said angrily.

"You really have to ask?"

"Yeah. I really do."

Bill and Louis observed the tense exchange nervously.

"Alright, fine!" Francis growled, finally looking up at her. "We're stuck in the city, camping out in some shithole warehouse. We're running out of food, ammo and supplies, and now we have to resort to _this_ – " he gestured angrily at the box of empty bottles, "– to survive! We're fucked, anyway you look at it."

"Now hang on a minute – " Bill began, but was cut off as Francis stood up menacingly.

"That helicopter was our one chance, Zoey, and you _blew it out of the sky_! This is all on _your_ head!"

"That is totally unfair!" she exclaimed. "If I hadn't done _something_, that pilot would have killed us! And I'm not sure how many _helicopters_ you've hotwired and _stolen_ in your life, Francis, but I've never flown one before!"

The two glared at each other angrily, when a loud crash interrupted the heated argument. Everyone jumped in fright and looked over to see that the service door had come crashing open with the wind. Rain poured into the room through the opening, while a flash of lightning outside momentarily lit up the immediate interior of the building.

"It's okay, it was just the wind," Louis breathed.

However, before anyone could get up to close the door again, another flash of lightning momentarily lit up the whites of many pairs of eyes staring at them from the darkness of the warehouse around them.


	19. Chapter 18: The Warehouse

**Chapter 18: The Warehouse**

* * *

><p>The flash of lightning lit up many pairs of eyes staring the survivors down hungrily, before darkness fell over the room once more. A blood-curdling shriek rang out through the air, as two dark figures sprinted at them with frightening speed. Answering bullets slammed into the pair of attackers, sending them tumbling to the ground in flashes of yellow light and red blood.<p>

Francis swung his head around to see more dark shapes emerging from the warehouse stacks around them. Muzzle-flashes lit up the room as bullets sizzled through the air. A short burst from Louis' Uzi dropped several attackers, splattering blood across the slick floor.

The din of bloodthirsty growls was answered by the thumping staccato of gunfire, which felled the snarling intruders before they could reach the makeshift campsite.

Zoey and Bill cautiously retreated back toward the others, their pistols not quite as effective as the heavier weapons. Just as he was considering using a Molotov, he felt a pair of cold hands wrapping around his neck, just as another pair of hands began to claw at his stomach. He cried out in pain as the force of the two Common Infected forced him to the hard cement floor.

"Bill!" Zoey cried out, rushing forward to help him.

The grizzled veteran quickly drew his combat knife and swung his arm sideways in a powerful lateral swipe that just about decapitated one of the men on top of him, showering him in a spray of blood. He kicked the corpse off him and then viscously rammed the knife upward into the jaw of the other infected man.

"I've had the _worst_ day…" he growled, jumping to his feet. "And you animals just picked the _wrong guy_ to fuck with..."

Zoey paused in mid-step as she watched Bill go to town with the remaining three Infected, slashing two throats and stabbing the third one through the side of the head. A bellow of anger split the air as yet another straggling Common Infected lurched out of the darkness, eyeing Bill down hungrily. Louis raised his Uzi, but the older man beat him to the punch, drawing the metal pipe from behind his back and smashing the attacker across the face with a sickening _CRACK_, followed by a dull _THUD_ as the body dropped to the ground.

Louis stared in a flabbergasted silence, while Francis snorted a laugh. "Ha! Nice one, Bill. Remind me not to mess with you when you're in one of your 'Vietnam moods'."

Zoey simply stared in shock as Bill reached down and retrieved his knife, still embedded in the head of one of the dead bodies. She had never seen him fight with such fury and rage before and, truthfully, it scared her. What if all that anger was coming from an unnatural source? What if he _was_ turning…?

"Help me block off this door," Bill said, moving off toward the service entrance.

Together, he and Francis closed the door to the outside and then pushed a table and a number of shelves in front of it, confident that nothing would be able to get in now without making a lot of noise. While they were busy barricading the door, Louis pulled Zoey off to one side.

"Look," he whispered carefully. "We need to keep an eye on Bill."

She sighed. "…I know."

Louis patted her supportively on the shoulder. "Hey, there's still hope, right? I mean, _I_ was immune. There's every chance that he could be too. It's been nearly twenty-four hours, and he hasn't turned."

The former college student smiled weakly.

"Alright, let's get some rest," Bill cut in, startling the private conversation and causing its participants to look up guiltily.

"I'll take the first watch," Zoey said immediately.

He shot her an unreadable glance. "You sure?"

"Positive. I-I can't sleep anyway. Not after _that_."

"Thanks, Zoey," Louis said gratefully, curling up on the floor near the dying campfire.

Francis gave her the slightest of nods, and then crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.

Bill led her away from the group to speak with her privately. "Look," he said. "You don't have to do us any favours – "

"It's fine!" she insisted. "I'm really not tired. Not after that gunfight a few seconds ago." She shivered involuntarily at the haunting mental image of all those eerie eyes staring at them from the darkness. "Besides, it might make _him_ – " she motioned at Francis' motionless form, "hate me a little less."

"Don't take it to heart," Bill replied. "He hates everything."

"I know..." she replied, casting her eyes downward. "But it _is_ my fault that the helicopter went down – "

The grizzled veteran grabbed her by the shoulders. "Zoey! It is _not_ your fault! The pilot was _infected!_ He was going to kill us! You had no choice."

She nodded silently, but still could not help feeling guilty.

"Just stop, blaming yourself, okay?" Bill continued. "...Wake me in a couple of hours. You need your rest, too."

"How are _you_ feeling, by the way?" Zoey inquired.

"I don't have a ravenous appetite for human flesh yet, if that's what you're askin'," he answered sourly.

"That's good," she replied, although she was still worried.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Zoey wandered through the warehouse, her flashlight shining through stack after stack of shelves. Although the door to the outside world had been barricaded, this dark, cavernous space that they were camping on the edge of made her feel uneasy. After all, when they had entered the building, it had seemed quite safe. But the attack a short while ago had driven home the fact that the Infected could be anywhere without them knowing. Thunder boomed outside as the storm continued to roll across Fairfield.<p>

The light from the flashlight illuminated a door set into the wall at the far end of the warehouse. Zoey drew her pistol and moved forward to investigate. She cautiously turned the knob and shone her flashlight inside, the cone of light revealing a small storage room. She cautiously stepped inside and moved deeper into the room, swinging the light around, eyes peeled for danger. She stopped dead and her blood ran cold when her light revealed a mutilated, blood-soaked corpse sitting slumped against a wall. The person had been horribly disfigured, long slashes running down the entire length of the body.

Zoey felt sick to her stomach. She knew that, with all the death and destruction confronting her on a daily basis, she should be used to this sort of sight by now. But deep down, she knew that she never would. _No one_ should have to become used to this scale of death and horror. Those that did lived ugly lives.

The former student sighed and swept her flashlight through the rest of the room, searching for anything useful she could take for the group. There were some buckets, tables, boxes, and nothing particularly interesting. She turned her flashlight back toward the dead body to gaze upon it one last time. However, all she found was a faint bloodstain on the wall. The body was gone.

Zoey frowned. Had she been imagining it? _Had_ there been a body there?


	20. Chapter 19: Howitzer

**Chapter 19: Howitzer**

* * *

><p>Zoey stood irresolute in the middle of the dark storeroom, not quite sure what to do. Had she imagined a corpse lying there against the wall? But the bloodstain... She was <em>sure<em> there had been a body there. Where did it go? Maybe there _hadn't_ been a body. Zoey _did_ hit her head pretty hard in the crash. Maybe she had a concussion.

She just about jumped a mile in the air when she heard a loud metal _CLANG_ nearby, as though something had fallen over. She immediately shone the flashlight in that direction to see a metal bucket rocking on its side on the floor, as though it had just been knocked over. Zoey took a deep breath to try and calm herself. She could not do much good if she shook herself to pieces.

She slowly aimed her flashlight around the room, revealing every corner, but frowned when she saw nothing out of the ordinary. She performed a second sweep of the room, but still could not locate the corpse. Where the hell did it go?

Zoey looked around the room one last time, and then turned to leave the storeroom. She had to get back to the others. However, as soon as she walked through the door, an arm flung out of the darkness and smacked her in the face, sending her pistol flying out of her hands. The young woman stumbled backward into the storeroom with the force of the blow, and then aimed her flashlight forward. She was met with the hideous sight of the horribly-disfigured body from before coming straight at her, its mouth curled upward in a viscous snarl.

Without thinking, Zoey swung her flashlight, striking her attacker across the face and sending it stumbling back a few steps. It growled in frustration, its dinner plans having been set back momentarily. However, Zoey did not plan on entertaining this notion. She reached over her shoulder and grabbed the crowbar slung across her back, the same one that Bill had given her earlier that day. Her attacker screeched, and she immediately swung the crowbar, smashing it in the face. Blood splattered across the walls, and the offender dropped like a stone.

* * *

><p>Bill felt himself being shaken awake a while later, by a flustered-looking Zoey. "Are you alright?" he asked, immediately alert.<p>

"Yeah, everything's fine," she replied. "Just waking you up to take over sentry duty."

"Um, Zoey…?"

"Yeah?"

Bill pointed to her face. "You've, uh, got some blood on you."

She put a hand to her face to find specks of blood from her recent attacker all over her face. "Oh. Thanks," she said, wiping herself clean with the leftover Molotov rag.

* * *

><p>It was another overcast day in Fairfield as the four survivors picked their way through the wreckage of the industrial district several hours later. Fortunately, they were well-rested, and their spirits were higher. Not by much, though.<p>

"Hey, Francis. Isn't this the alleyway where you were born?" Louis called out jokingly.

"Heh, real funny," he growled. "Isn't this the one you're going to die in?"

"Easy guys," Zoey interjected.

They made their way past several rows of warehouses, dispatching the occasional Common Infected that they came across. Fortunately, they did not run into any larger groups.

"There sure are a lot of barricades blocking the roads," Louis commented as they passed yet another wall of cement, adorned with barbed wire, blocking a road to the south.

"The army must have set them up to stop people from leaving the city," Bill said.

Louis looked at him in shock. "Isn't the army trying to _help_ people? What do they say to the ones they've trapped here?"

"Collateral damage," the old veteran replied simply.

The group continued their march through the streets, staying alert for danger. However, as they moved closer toward the edge of the city, they found their movement increasingly impaired by roadblocks and barricades.

"Damn army. I hate the army," Francis growled.

They soon came across an abandoned military truck, with a mini-gun emplacement sitting on the back tray. A large artillery cannon was set up nearby. The area looked as though it had been set up as a defensive position, but was seemingly abandoned.

"That's a Howitzer," Bill said, looking at the large artillery cannon.

"Damn," Louis whistled, impressed. "That thing would do a lot of damage."

Zoey looked the Howitzer over thoughtfully, and then turned her head westward toward a large barricade blocking the road. "Barricade… big-ass gun." The others turned to look at her. "Anybody got any ideas?" she asked teasingly.

Bill thought her plan over. Destroying the barricade _would_ be the quickest way out of the city. But there was an issue. "Speaking from experience, firing that gun will make a LOT of noise. It's sure to bring a whole shit-swarm of Infected down on us."

"That's okay, we can let Zoey handle it," Francis said sarcastically, turning to her. "Just pretend they're all helicopter pilots."

"Infected, Francis!" she exclaimed. "He. Was. INFECTED!"

* * *

><p>After Francis had pretty much threatened to kill anyone who took control of the mini-gun bar himself, both he and Louis climbed up into the back tray of the military truck, while the others took up positions on the ground. Louis found a second Uzi in the truck and gave it to Zoey, who was more than grateful, while Bill swivelled the Howitzer around to aim it at the barricade to the west.<p>

"When I fire this thing, all hell's gonna break loose," he said warningly. He nodded at the north side of the road, which disappeared down a steep dirt slope. "Louis, be ready to throw those Molotovs when you see 'em crest that hill."

Louis nodded nervously, while Francis swung the mini-gun around, testing its turning arc.

"Try not to hit me with that thing," Zoey called up to him.

"Try not to shoot down any more helicopters," he shot back.

She blew out a breath in frustration, choosing to ready her Molotovs and Uzi rather than waste her mental strength on a witty retort.

"Firing Howitzer!" Bill yelled.

A deafening _crack_ whipped out from the barrel of the large cannon, followed by a loud blast as a shell _slammed_ into the barricade, utterly annihilating it in a hail of debris, dust and smoke. As the sound faded away, it was replaced by angry howls and screeches filling the air.

"Here they come!" Bill shouted, climbing up into the tray of the truck as Zoey followed him.

Francis was the first to open fire, the muzzle of the mini-gun disappearing in a mass of flame as the barrel rotated, spitting out bullets at an incredible rate of fire. The unrelenting hail of lead tore through the Infected approaching from the west through the ruined barricade, reducing them to bloody pulps.

Louis and Zoey kept their eyes to the north, and immediately threw a Molotov each when they saw Infected beginning to appear over the slope. The bottles flew through the air and exploded in twin sheets of flame, setting fire to any who dared to cross them. The rapid-fire from their Uzis cut down those that managed to make it through the blaze. Bill, having borrowed Francis' shotgun, was busy keeping at bay the stragglers who managed to break through their defences.

"How's everyone doing?" he yelled.

It was a useless gesture. The roar of the mini-gun, intermingled with the collective cries of the Infected made his attempts to communicate all but useless. More and more Infected were appearing, and the gunfire was continuous. Suddenly, the mini-gun slowed to a stop.

"Shit! Out of ammo!" Francis swore, drawing his pistol.

He fired at the oncoming horde approaching from the west, but there were too many for him to handle with a simple pistol, and it was getting to the point where it looked as though they were about to overwhelm the truck. Suddenly, Francis saw a blur of red to his right and looked to see Zoey pushing past him, throwing her second Molotov into the crowd. There was a flash of light, and the once-dangerous wave of enemies was reduced to a burning crisp. Francis nodded at Zoey in thanks and she reciprocated. After a few more tense minutes, the gunfire finally ceased, and the military truck stood amid a ring of fire, death and blood.

"Phew!" Louis breathed, wiping his brow on his shirt sleeve. "That was _intense!_"

The biker immediately marched up to Bill. "I'd like my shotgun back now, old man."

"If I wasn't so tired right now, you'd have a size 10 army boot up your ass, Francis."

Zoey sat down, leaning her back against the tray, trying to catch her breath. The fight had taken a lot out of her. Suddenly, a hand was extended down to help her up. She looked up and was shocked to see that it was Francis.

"Alright, let's move, people," Bill said. "We definitely stepped on a few egg shells with that shootout, and knowing our luck, every infected son of a bitch in the city heard it."

With that, the four survivors walked down the road and ploughed through the destroyed barricade, stepping onto a high bridge. Far below, the smouldering wreckage of a derailed train still burned furiously.

"Wow…" Francis whistled. "Zoey must've shot the train conductor." However, he said this with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Zoey sighed. Was he ever going to let it go? "The helicopter pilot was infec – oh, screw it. The pilot was a ZOMBIE, Francis!" She put her hands on her hips indignantly. "Okay, you know what? He was a zombie. Zombie, zombie, zombie. Not a pilot. He was a ZOMBIE, Francis!"

* * *

><p>The group crossed the bridge without incident and made their way down the far bank toward a cluster of metal transport containers. Thunder rumbled across the early afternoon sky.<p>

"Are you kidding me?" Francis groaned. "It's going to rain _again?_"

Suddenly, Louis spotted a familiar symbol spray-painted on the road; a white house with a cross inside. The same symbol had led him to his first safe-room. "Guys! There's a safe-house up ahead!"

"Hot damn!" Bill said, pleased. "That is good news."

They walked in the direction of the arrow and soon saw a familiar red door built into a squat cement building.

"Nice!" Louis cried, running forward. "_Man_, are you a sight for sore eyes!"

As they walked down the hill toward the safe-house, Francis suddenly put a hand on Zoey's shoulder and stopped her, letting the others go on ahead.

"Hey, listen," he said awkwardly. "I, uh… Well, thanks for savin' my ass back there."

Zoey cocked her head to one side. Was this really happening?

"Also… I just wanted to say sorry," the big biker said sheepishly. "You know, for being such a dick lately."

Zoey smiled, and patted him on the shoulder. "Apology accepted, Francis!" She then continued down the hill, shaking her head in disbelief. Had Francis just _apologised_? _And_ thanked her! Maybe that concussion she had was worse than she thought.

Francis watched her go. "Man, I hate apologising to girls…"

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Thank you to everyone for the kind reviews so far. You guys rock.


	21. Chapter 20: The Scrap Yard

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I took some time planning out a new series of events for "Crash Course". Although quite a bit of it is similar to what I had written before, I have added additional scenes and some "foreshadowing" that will hopefully improve the quality of the story. There is now also an extra chapter. Hooray.

I will also be going back over all my old chapters and trying to improve them once again.

As always, reviews are appreciated.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20: The Scrap Yard<strong>

* * *

><p>While Francis secured the safe-house door, Bill sat down on the floor of the safe-room and leaned back against the wall as he lit up a cigarette. He was pleased to have found a pump-action shotgun, along with a full box of shells, lying forgotten in the corner of the room, which he eagerly traded his metal pipe for.<p>

"I reckon we rest up here for a couple of hours. But then we should get moving again."

Francis shot him a strange look. "We do that, and we'll be leaving at night-time. Is that such a good idea?"

Bill took a deep puff from his cigarette. "Every rabid son of a bitch within a three mile radius probably heard the racket we made firing off that Howitzer. They'll be closing in on where the noise came from. I want to put as much distance between us and that gun as possible."

Suddenly, Zoey, who had been looking around the safe-room, spoke up. "Hey, guys. Take a look at this."

The others looked over at her and saw a hastily-scrawled message on the wall behind her.

**PETER**

** ARMY IS STILL IN RIVERSIDE**

**WE'RE WAITING FOR YOU AT THE DEPOT**

** WE FINISHED THE TRUCK**

**HURRY**

"We should check out that truck depot," Zoey suggested. "Maybe there's something there that we can use to drive out of here."

"Sounds like a plan," Louis agreed, while Francis nodded.

"I hate walking. Driving out of this shithole city in style would be nice."

As Francis began to clean his shotgun and sidearm, and the others prepared a paltry meal of jerky and bruised-looking apples scavenged from the hospital, Zoey surveyed the rest of the messages written on the walls. There was an argument between several people over which one of them had killed the most zombies, and one individual had put down in writing his longing for the internet. Suddenly, a poem written in neat, loopy handwriting caught her eye.

_Jonathan,_

_You have touched my very being. I shall remember you._

_You taught all that know you what courage is._

_And have shown us an example in death as you did in life._

_God give me strength in my life without you._

_And I shall thank him._

_I can only hope our souls shall entwine again_

_In that place where there is only love, no tears, no sadness,_

_No __injustice, __no __cruelty, __no __white, __no __black _(_no __zombies_, someone had added here)

_No hate, no war, only love_

_Alison_

"Damn..." Zoey muttered to herself. "What a God-awful poem..." She then noticed that someone else had scribbled a message below the pretentious poetry.

** Jesus lady. I'm hiding from zombies and reading this was the most terrible thing to happen to me today.**

Zoey chuckled. "Too right, man."

* * *

><p>Several hours later, the metal safe-house door swung open once more and Bill led the way out into the night. However, something felt immediately wrong, more so than usual. Usually, the distant moans and growls of the former humans now inhabiting the continent could be heard coming from <em>somewhere<em>. Bill strained his ears and listened. He could not hear howling, or screaming, or anything. Absolutely nothing. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Louis and Zoey followed, covering him with their submachine guns, while Francis casually strode out of the building, cocking his shotgun. The four of them made their way around the cinderblock structure and into an abandoned scrap yard, skirting the various piles of twisted metal. All the while, Louis glanced around nervously at the dark outlines of the various junk surrounding them.

_This __is __bullshit... __We__'__re __totally __out __in __the __open __here..._

His heart started pounding when he heard some rustling off to the right. He immediately swung his flashlight around, but could not locate the culprit behind the noise he just heard... Or had he? It was so quiet... Maybe he was just imagining things?

"Move it along," Francis growled from behind, startling him into motion again.

The ragtag little group pushed forward through the junkyard in a tense silence. Zoey felt the somewhat good mood she had been in when they left the safe-house quickly evaporating. It was not fair. They had made it to Mercy Hospital, and fought their way to the helicopter. They should be in the safe-zone by now, sitting back and chilling in deck-chairs with mojitos on the beach. Or… something like that.

Why were they still in Fairfield, wandering through a dark and dank junkyard?

"This is weird…" she said presently, as three pairs of eyes turned to her. "I mean, where are all the Infected?" Seeing Louis' puzzled expression, she quickly added, "Not that I'm complaining."

"I was wondering about that too," Bill replied solemnly. "Until I saw that." He jerked his thumb ahead toward a horrific sight of carnage.

Two helicopters lay crumpled and broken side-by-side, smashed to pieces. They must have marked the place of an obviously-failed evacuation attempt. Countless shards of glass covered the ground, along with hideously bent and buckled pieces of rotor and fuselage. The scorch marks and lack of fire gave sight to the fact that whatever events transpired here had happened a while ago.

Zoey was glad to have missed them.

"What the hell happened here?" Louis exclaimed in shock. "Do you think the army shot them down or something?"

Bill had moved in take a closer look at one of the helicopters, and what he saw chilled him to the bone. The entire left-hand side of the fuselage was buckled inward, as though it had been hit with tremendous force. But it was the _shape_ of the dent that was most disturbing – it almost looked like the outline of a gigantic fist! He could even see the circular depressions from four great knuckles, the size of baseballs, and the dents from four fat fingers, each one the width of his entire hand.

_My __god__…_

"What is it, old man?" Francis chimed in. "I thought you'd be used to seeing crashed helicopters by now? What, with fighting in Vietnam, _and_ knowing _her_." The biker jerked a thumb at Zoey with the last word, to which she shot him an angry look.

The old veteran straightened up. "We're leaving. _Now._"

"What is it, Bill?" Zoey asked in alarm.

"Whatever did this sure as hell wasn't the army. It was something else – something _big_. Whatever it is, it has the Common Infected in the area either in hiding, or running scared. We've got to – "

_** "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

A shrill scream shattered the silence as an infected woman leapt from the darkness behind them, wrapping her arms around Francis, and, without the slightest hesitation, sank her teeth into his shoulder.


	22. Chapter 21: The Monsters Within

**Chapter 21: The Monsters Within**

* * *

><p>Francis felt a sharp and terrible pain as the crazed lady drove her teeth deeper into his flesh. "<em>Fuck! <em>_Shit, __get __her __off!_"

The thought of stepping toward an enraged, bloodthirsty animal would have made some shy away from the task. However, Louis stepped forward without question and swung his fist, punching the infected woman in the face with a sharp thrust. She snarled in fury but did not relinquish her grip on Francis.

_CHOOM!_

Zoey whirled to the sound of Bill's shotgun going off to see him facing three dark shapes hurtling toward them from behind the fallen helicopters. One went down, but the other two leapt at the old man, howling in ravenous delight. The foremost one crashed into him and drove him to the ground, clawing and scratching furiously.

Zoey quickly raised her weapon and let fly with a short burst of gunfire, splattering the other one's blood across the helicopter behind it and sending it crashing to the ground. However, before she could go to help Bill, she whirled toward the sound of rushing footsteps and her terror became extreme when she was met with the sight of a large, blood-covered man _diving __through __the __air __at __her_.

The young woman took hasty aim and fired a hail of bullets into him, spurts of blood gushing from several wounds that opened up in his face and chest. However, bullets can only do so much to slow momentum, and the infected man _ploughed_ into her, knocking the Uzi from her hands and sending her stumbling back into the helicopter. She gasped as the wind was knocked from her.

Despite being hit in mid-air with a number of bullets, the man snapped his jaws and gnashed his teeth inches from Zoey's face, and it was all she could do to press both her hands against his chest, desperately trying to hold him back. The freshly-inflicted bullet wounds on his face spurted blood, and finally seemed to take their toll. The light of ravenous hunger and inhuman rage dimmed in his eyes, and he slumped forward with a growl of finality.

Bill grappled with the assailant on top of him, desperately trying to fling him off. However, the infected man slashed his arm, and then bit into his forearm. The war veteran roared in pain and made a panicky grab for his shotgun. However, it had been thrown clear when he had been tackled to the ground, and now lay beyond his reach.

* * *

><p>"I said get her the fuck off me!" Francis bellowed, still wrestling with the woman hanging off his back.<p>

Louis punched her in the face again, this time causing the infected woman to rear her head back and snarl at him warningly, her mouth smeared with Francis' blood. The enraged biker took the opportunity to throw her over his shoulder, slamming her into the ground at his feet. He stomped his boot down on the woman's chest and thrust his shotgun in her face.

"Eat this, bitch."

The buckshot tore the woman's face apart, leaving only a grisly crater of blood, brain and shattered skull fragments.

* * *

><p>Bill roared in pain as the man overhead bit him again. The fiery pain radiated through his arm, and he could feel the warm, sticky sensation of his own blood trickling from the wounds. He was at a loss of what to do. Both his shotgun and sidearm were out of reach –<p>

Just then, he heard Zoey utter a war-cry. She rushed at the creature and delivered a kick to its midsection, hard enough to throw it off balance and knock it away from Bill. The infected man screeched in anger and turned back toward her as she thrust her pistol forward. They both acted at once; the Common Infected leaping forward as Zoey squeezed the trigger, shooting it continuously while uttering a gamut of curses as though she was trying to inflict equal mental trauma. Her clip ran dry just as the man pitched forward with a petulant wail.

"Are you okay?" she asked, turning to help Bill up. She saw the bloody scratches and bite-marks all over Bill's arm and blanched.

"Still in one piece, thanks to you," he replied, nursing his mauled arm.

"What about you guys?" Zoey said, turning toward the others and retrieving her dropped Uzi.

Louis was unscathed, but Francis was holding a hand to his shoulder, where blood leaked freely between his fingers.

"That crazy bitch got me pretty good," he growled.

Taking cover by one of the fallen helicopters, Zoey opened the first-aid pack and started rummaging for bandages and antiseptic, while Louis covered them with his Uzi. Although, at first glance, Francis' shoulder looked pretty bad, the bite was not too deep. Zoey cleaned and dressed the wound fairly quickly, before moving onto Bill's bloodied arm.

As she dressed the wounds, she could not help but wonder if she should perhaps back away to a safe distance from him and Francis. However, she pondered the situation. Bill _had_ been scratched nearly 48 hours ago, but had not turned. Although they could not be completely sure that he was not going to become a blood-thirsty maniac from that wound, she guessed that it was fairly safe to say that the veteran was immune to scratches.

_Thank goodness!_

A bite on the other hand…

Then again, why should it matter? This was not some game of rock-paper-scissors, where "bite trumps scratch". Hell, in _28 __Weeks __Later,_ that guy kissed the infected woman and turned –

_Shut __up, __you __idiot!_ Zoey scolded herself angrily. _This i__sn__'__t __a __stupid __movie! __It__'__s __life-and-death, __and __Bill __and __Francis __have __been _bitten_!_

"Louis," Bill said, wincing from the stinging sensation as his brutalised arm was cleaned and wrapped in gauze. "The next few minutes are critical. Make sure you are keeping an eye on Francis and me. If we show even the slightest signs of turning…"

Everyone paused at those words, before the black man gave a curt nod, gripping his Uzi tighter. What if Bill and Francis _did_ turn? He had only known these people for two short weeks, but he already trusted them with his life. What if he had to kill them?

At that moment, a bone-chilling screech cut through the night. Answering howls rose up, rending the stillness of the night. There were infected people nearby – a lot of them.

"Aw, hell…" the war veteran muttered.

"Those Common Infected that attacked us weren't alone," Francis growled in frustration. "There are others still out there."

"Shit…" Louis breathed. "They _must _have heard all that shooting just now. They'll be on us any minute!"

Zoey looked painfully at Bill and Francis. Would they have to part ways? The howling grew louder – the Infected were closing in.

Bill looked up at Zoey. "Leave us."

"What?" she whispered.

"We don't have time to wait and make sure Francis and I aren't going to turn. You and Louis have to go now. We'll hold them off."

The biker opened his mouth to object, but then sighed in begrudging agreement. "The old man's right. Get going, Zoey."

She was distraught at the situation. They were right, of course – they could not afford the risk. But she could not do it –

"Go!" Bill roared.

"No way in hell, we're not leaving you two!" she cried. She hauled him to his feet and handed him his shotgun, before turning to Francis. "Get your ass up!"

"Zoey, you're crazy!" Bill uttered furiously. "It's too dangerous – "

"I don't give a shit! We're all leaving here together or not at all. Now quit wasting time arguing! We make for the truck depot!"


	23. Chapter 22: The Truck Depot: Part I

**Chapter 22: The Truck Depot: Part I**

* * *

><p>The four survivors hurtled through the scrapyard, surrounded by the calls and cries of the Infected. There were no doubt a lot of them, and they were close behind. Compromised, Bill and Francis ran out in front so that Zoey and Louis could also keep an eye on them as they ran.<p>

This unfortunately put them closer to their pursuers.

"Look out!" Louis exclaimed, half turning and firing a panicky burst from his Uzi. Zoey looked back, but did not see what he had been shooting at. She had no desire to hang around and find out what it was.

"Come on, you two!" Bill called, waving them forward.

At that moment, Zoey saw a dark figure appear to his side, approaching rapidly. Without hesitating, she stopped, took aim, and dropped the creature with a storm of bullets. As that happened, Bill raised his pistol and fired two shots at something off to her left. She looked over to see a ragged-looking man slump to the ground.

"Thanks," she panted, resuming the run.

"We've got to hurry," Bill barked, running out in front to keep his gun trained on Francis in case anything happened. "If the faster ones are already on us, all the rest can't be too far behind."

The ragtag little group sprinted through the rest of the scrapyard, fortunately not being attacked by anything else. However, the cries of the incoming horde continued to draw nearer. Perhaps they were tracking their prey by scent.

"There's the truck depot!" Francis called from up ahead.

The others looked to see the outline of a large structure looming ahead in the darkness. As they approached, they could discern that it was a large shed, several stories tall, painted in an off-white colour. A large roller door stood open, leaving a dark, gaping hole.

He and Bill led the way across a small yard and past a small mobile lighting tower. The lights were off, leaving the area in total darkness. While Zoey and Louis covered the front door, Francis and Bill made their way through the open door into the parking depot and shone their flashlights around the cavernous building cautiously.

The war veteran's frown deepened as he surveyed the place. There was no way they would be able to hole up here. It was too open – even if they managed to get the main door closed, there were other places the Infected could come from, assuming that there were none already inside the building somewhere.

His eyes flicked to his compatriot when he heard the big biker cough and slowly redirected his shotgun. "How are you feeling there, Francis?"

"Fine," he replied, raising his shotgun defensively. "What about _you_, Bill? Your arm got mauled pretty badly."

"This isn't a competition! We have to consider the safety of Zoey and Louis."

"Yeah, well maybe you idiots shouldn't have been talking so loudly back at the crashed helicopters," the biker said slowly, stalking forward dangerously. "_That's_ how those Commons found us. Now I could be turning into one of them because of you."

Too close for comfort. Bill stiffened and pointed his shotgun directly at Francis' chest, while the latter returned the action. The two hardened men faced each other down in a silent standoff for a full minute.

"Well _are_ you?" Bill said finally.

"No. I don't feel different at all. Guess I must be immune."

"I remember how open-minded you were when Louis put that same motion forward when _he_ was staring down the barrel of your shotgun," the war veteran retorted. "What was it that you said? 'Everyone's different'? 'You might take longer to turn than everyone else'?"

"That could be the case with you as well," Francis shot back. "Just 'cause you're still human after that pretty little scar the Hunter gave you, don't mean it's permanent."

There was another moment of silence as they glared at each other.

"I ain't gonna die in this shed, old man," Francis said presently.

"You will if it's required."

"Oh yeah? Are _you_ gonna be the one to shoot me?"

"If I have to."

"Not if I take you first."

"What. The. _Hell?_" Zoey's voice rang out from across the depot floor. The two men turned to see her storming toward them furiously. "We have a goddamned horde of Infected on our asses! We don't have time for this 'macho alpha male' bullshit!"

"Stay out of this – " Francis started to say, but she cut him off.

"Zip it! We've found a truck, but we need help. Stow your lover's spat until we're safe."

The news perked Bill's interest. "Where is it?"

"Over here." Zoey led them across the depot to a large truck that was mounted on a workshop hoist.

Louis was standing nearby looking up at it, and turned when he heard the others coming. "There you are! Watch out for the bodies." He gestured to three limp forms lying on the ground nearby. They had all been torn to pieces. The cement floor was slick with dark blood.

Bill shivered involuntarily at the gruesome sight, and then shone his flashlight up to take a proper look at the vehicle. "Hm, I think we just found our ticket outta the city. We'll need to lower the hoist first though, or the suspension will be wrecked if we try to drive it off."

The four cones of light revealed what used to be a camping van, in all of its glory. It had been heavily modified and armoured, and there was even a large V-shaped tray welded to the front of the truck, similar to that of a bulldozer. It now resembled an armoured military personnel carrier more than the leisure vehicle that it had been in a previous life.

"We found the keys for the ignition on those dead bodies," Louis said. "Poor sons of bitches." He had to raise his voice to be heard above the bloodthirsty din drawing ever nearer.

"Yeah, and while you two were arguing like an old married couple, we found the power supply for the hoist." Zoey motioned to several power lines snaking away along the floor.

They followed the power lines back outside the workshop and came to an aging generator sitting directly below the lighting tower they had passed earlier in the middle of the yard. The cries of the Infected were deafening now. Bill estimated that they had less than two minutes. It was now or never. He immediately flipped open the control panel. It took a few tries, but the ailing generator finally roared to life, giving power to the lighting tower, which lit up the yard. Inside the workshop, the hoist slowly began to lower the armoured truck to the floor.

"Let's get inside," he said, pointing up at maintenance shed attached to the main depot. "If we get on that roof, it will give us a commanding view of the yard."

With that, the ragtag group turned tail and fled back into the truck depot, past the slowly-lowering workshop hoist, and up a set of steel stairs. They made their way along a catwalk running along the outer wall of the depot and soon found what they were looking for – an open doorway leading out onto the roof of the maintenance shed.

"I'll cover the door," Bill said, aiming his shotgun at the dark doorway behind them.

"We should kill the lights," Louis suggested, gesturing at the lighting tower.

The older man shook his head. "Sons of bitches are easier to shoot when you can see 'em. And they already know exactly where we are." He looked each of his companions in the eye. "We've come too far to die here. We're getting the hell out of this city tonight."


	24. Chapter 23: The Truck Depot: Part II

**Chapter 23: The Truck Depot: Part II**

* * *

><p>The inhuman howling echoed all around the survivors, chilling them to the bone. There was no telling how many Infected were coming, but it had to be a lot. The four gripped their weapons, peering out into the darkness, as the howling grew louder and louder.<p>

"Guys, remember to keep and eye Francis and me," Bill said carefully.

"Hey, you both still seem human to me," Louis said encouragingly. "Maybe – OH SHIT!" Whatever he was about to say took a backseat as he opened fire; the courtyard lighting up with the flash of fire as he aimed at a fleeting shadow sprinting across the ground. It convulsed as bullets slammed into it.

"Over there!" Bill yelled, pointing a couple more figures out to Zoey. He and Francis' shotguns were useless at this range.

The college student raised her Uzi, exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. The muzzle spat flame and bullets, sizzling through the air with a sharp whistling, followed by wet _THWACKS_ as they threw up gouts of blood and dirt.

"More over there!" Bill yelled, pointing across to a different corner of the yard as more Common Infected spilled out of the darkness and into the glare of the lighting tower.

Louis immediately redirected his aim and opened fire on the intruders, who shrieked with anger as they fell under a hail of hot lead from above.

"You guys are doin' great!" Bill called encouragingly to Zoey and Louis.

"Yeah, a little _too_ good," Francis moped. "Leave some for us!"

At that moment, a large crowd of people spilled into the yard below, screaming bloody murder. A number of them fell under gunfire, but many of them broke through the initial storm and began to claw their way up the walls in a bid to reach the survivors.

"Be careful what you wish for, asshole!" Louis yelled.

"Yeah! That's more like it!" the stocky biker hollered, blowing a woman away from the wall in a blast of blood and flying bone fragments.

Bill feverishly swung the butt of his shotgun down on pale hands that appeared over the edge of the balcony. He looked to his left to see two infected people climb up onto the balcony, eyeing him down ravenously.

"Sorry, the diner's closed!" he yelled, swinging the shotgun around squeezing the trigger. The blast annihilated the attackers' heads at point-blank range, sending their headless bodies flying back over the railing.

Zoey cursed with the stress of the situation. A large number of Infected were assaulting their position, and there were more still pouring out of the darkness. Just how many people in this damn city had been infected?

Suddenly, Bill noticed several people swarming into the workshop entrance below them. _Shit..._

"Bill, I thought you said you were covering the door!" Louis yelled over his shoulder.

"Just shut up and shoot!" he yelled back, swinging his shotgun toward the dark doorway behind them.

At that moment, the unthinkable happened. The light on the tower went out, plunging the area into darkness, save for the flashing of gunfire.

"Crap!" Zoey swore. "The generator's stalled!"

"You've GOT to be kidding me!" Francis yelled.

Bill brushed aside the temptation to curse out loud. There was no time for that. "I'm going down there!" he announced, making for the doorway into the workshop in a low crouch.

"I'll come with you – " Zoey began, but he waved her off.

"I need you to stay up here, kid. Cover me when I'm on the ground." He quickly moved off before she could argue.

Muzzle-flashes lit up the yard, continuously illuminating the writhing figures below. The bloodthirsty growls rending the air intensified. It was almost as if the Infected knew that they had their quarry trapped and cornered, with nowhere to go.

* * *

><p>Bill moved quickly through the dark workshop toward the stairs that led off the upper catwalk and down to ground level. A sudden inhuman shriek caused him to swing the shotgun around to see a dark shape rushing toward him. One trigger-pull later and he was sprayed with a gratuitous amount of blood.<p>

"Son of a bitch – "

He whirled to the sound of rushing footsteps to see a wild-looking woman emerging at the top of the stairs. Without hesitating, Bill smashed her in the face with the butt of his gun, sending her tumbling back down the stairs. She came to rest at the bottom with a sickening _CRUNCH_ and did not move again. Bill leapt over her body several seconds later and rushed past the truck toward the main entrance. The hoist had lowered just over halfway to the floor.

_Damn, that thing is slow..._

* * *

><p>"Where the hell's the old man?" Francis yelled over the roaring gunfire. "That truck ain't gonna lower itself!"<p>

"There he is!" Louis shouted, pointing to a figure dashing across the yard toward the generator.

Several Common Infected immediately noticed Bill and turned to attack. However, a hail of withering gunfire from above sent them tumbling to the ground, clearing the way. He reached the generator and immediately started pounding on the controls.

"Come on, _work_, you Goddamn piece of shit..." he hissed through gritted teeth. He paused to swing his shotgun to the left and blow away an infected man bearing down on him, before turning back to his work.

Louis fired his Uzi with a firm two-handed grip, killing any Infected got too close to them or Bill. _If that generator doesn't start working again..._

Suddenly, with a triumphant roar, the lights flickered back on and the generator rumbled with renewed life. Bill sighed in satisfaction, but his celebrations were short-lived when he realised that he was completely cut off from the depot. He cursed and began to fire his shotgun at the large crowd of Infected coming straight for him. Several went down, but there were far too many, and the others screeched in delight as they rapidly closed the distance.

He was screwed.

_THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!_ A hail of bullets slammed into the attackers above, clearing the way. Bill looked up to see that Zoey and Louis had abandoned the defence of their own perch and were solely concentrating their fire to protect him from the Infected on the ground. To his horror, he saw countless others scaling the walls, threatening to envelop the maintenance shed.

"Guys! Get inside and make for the truck!" he yelled. "Go now!"

The others nodded and quickly disappeared through the balcony doorway into the workshop, but not before carving a clear path to the door through the Infected with their submachine guns for Bill. He made straight for the ground entrance, firing only passing shots at anything that got too close.

* * *

><p>The other three survivors charged along the upper-level catwalk, firing continuously as they ran. The muzzle-flashes lit up snarling figures approaching from the stairs, but the combined fire from two Uzis and a shotgun sent them tumbling head over heels.<p>

"Almost out of ammo!"

"Keep moving!"

"The truck's almost lowered!"

Thirty furious seconds later, the four regrouped back at the truck, and Francis opened the door while the others covered him.

"Get in!" he motioned frantically.

As soon as everyone was inside, he slammed the door shut, seconds before the incessant pounding began on the outside of the truck. Bill shone the light on his shotgun around to find that they were in a large back compartment of the van. Pale, bloodied faces pushed up against the grill-reinforced windows of the cabin. Pushing his way roughly past Francis, he moved through a narrow doorway into the driver's cabin and threw himself into the seat.

"Uh, Bill?" Louis' voice sounded anxious. "Are we gettin' outta here or what?"

The pounding against the sides of the truck was getting louder, and it sounded as though several Infected had climbed up onto the roof as well. Bill looked up in alarm when he heard thumps from ahead, and saw several dark shapes climbing onto the front of the van. Quick as a flash, he raised his M1911 and fired several shots through the windshield at the attackers.

"Bill, we gotta go!" Zoey yelled from the back.

"Alright, alright, hold yer horses!" he muttered, jamming the keys into the ignition. "I'm gettin' too old for this goddamn apocalypse horseshit..."

With a loud roar, the truck blazed to life. He flicked on the powerful headlights to reveal a large crowd of people swarming in front of the truck, attracted by the bright lights and loud roar of the engine. With the tyres screeching in protest, Bill jetted the van forward, slamming into several Infected, who immediately disappeared under the vehicle with a loud rumbling.

"Buckle in!" he called over his shoulder. "It's gonna be a bumpy ride!"

He found himself thanking the unfortunate previous survivors who had done such a good job of armouring the camper van. It easily cut a swath through the Infected as he guided it out of the workshop and into the road. The rumbling of bodies under the hulking vehicle continued without reprieve. Bill grinned. This was the life.

The armoured van burst out of the truck depot and shot out toward the city limit of Fairfield. It disappeared into the night, safe and away, leaving the mournful wails and cries of the Infected in its wake.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Tomorrow I will be going overseas, and so there will not be any new chapters for a while. However, once I get back, _Death Toll_ will begin. Rawr.


	25. DEATH TOLL: Chapter 24: The Turnpike

**Part III: Death Toll**

"_Hell came to Earth. These four are gonna send it back."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24: The Turnpike<strong>

* * *

><p>The armoured truck trundled along the broken Highway 80, where it had been travelling westward for most of the day, aside from very occasional and very brief rest-stops. Thumping could be heard every now and then from beneath the heavy vehicle – most likely infected people that tried to attack the truck.<p>

Zoey sat in the back cabin, looking out the grill-covered window to see night falling over a landscape of dirt hills and dark trees, many of them without leaves. A dense fog hung over the area. She sighed and looked over at Louis, who was fast asleep in his seat. Bill was in the process of cleaning his newly-acquired pump-action shotgun.

Just over two weeks ago, Zoey never would have imagined in a million years that she would be hanging out with a guy like Bill, let alone depending on him for her survival. But the elder man clearly cared for everyone in the group, and was a capable leader. She knew that she trusted him with her life more than anyone else now.

Louis was great, if not a bit naive. Zoey appreciated his positive attitude, and it helped her out of the dumps when she was feeling down. But she had seen a lot of horror movies. They never had good endings. What sort of ending was in store for them?

And Francis...

_BUMP. BUMP. BUMP._

"Francis!" Bill snapped. "Maybe try keeping us on the road, instead of deliberately swerving to hit infected people!"

There was a short silence, and then –

_CRASH!_ A terrible screeching of metal against metal resonated throughout the cabin. The entire truck shuddered violently, and Zoey was thrown out of her seat. Louis awoke with a yelp, and Bill's shotgun lurched out of his hands, bouncing around on the floor. The terrible noise and shaking were gone as quickly as they came, and the truck continued on its way.

Bill angrily got to his feet. "That's it. I'm gonna tear him a new one," he growled.

Zoey stopped him. "Allow me." She made her way through the back cabin of the truck and passed through the opening at the end, into the driver's cabin. "Francis, what the hell?" she demanded angrily.

The biker kept his eyes out the window on the road ahead. "There are a lot of abandoned cars littering the highway. I misjudged and hit one."

The young woman sighed, and dropped into the passenger seat beside him. "You _are_ following the right highway?"

"Yeah," he grumbled. "But what's the big deal, anyway? It's not like we have anywhere to go."

"We _do_ have a place to go! Riverside!"

"What's so important about some backwater suburbia town?"

Zoey placed a palm to her forehead and closed her eyes, massaging her temples with her fingers and thumb. "If you remember, both safe-rooms we've been in have had suggested evacuation sites written on the walls. The army is holding out in Riverside, and it's the closest one. So unless you have a better plan, we need to head there."

"I _do_ have a better plan," Francis replied. "We find a supermarket, grab some beer, pull up a few deckchairs and some shotguns, and have a little fun."

"Francis..." she sighed.

"Hey, I know, we could even find ourselves a portable radio, get some tunes going." He turned to face her, grinning. "Hey, it goes along with your plan to visit small-town America. What's more small-town then sitting on the lawn with a shotgun, shooting innocent passerbies?"

Zoey was about to tell him how stupid he was, but she found herself smiling. Whatever she was about to say was forgotten when she saw flashing lights ahead in the distance. As the armoured truck drew nearer to the lights, it had to swerve between increasing amounts of mangled cars strewn across the highway. Eventually, Francis was forced to stop the truck completely. Louis and Bill appeared in the driver's cabin.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "Why are we stopping?"

Zoey pointed through the window at a graveyard of wrecked cars on the highway ahead. "Pile-up. There must have been some huge accident."

"Road's blocked," Francis grunted. "There's no way the truck will be able to plough through all this shit in front of us."

Bill contemplated the situation for a moment, and then turned and headed back into the rear cabin. "Alright, everyone. Gather your gear. We're making our way into town on foot from here."

"Whoa," Francis objected. "We're out in the middle of _nowhere_. We should try and find another way into town."

"There _is_ no other way into town," Bill pointed out. "_All_ the roads in are going to be like this."

He stepped out of the truck into the cool night, aiming his shotgun out in front of him, while Louis and Zoey followed, both of them brandishing their Uzis. Francis grabbed his beloved shotgun from under the driver's seat and reluctantly left the truck. Bill cast his eyes warily to the dark tree-line on either side of the highway, keeping watch in case anything moved out there, while Louis surveyed the destruction in front of him, his hope starting to wane.

"Come on," the older man said, motioning them forward.

They made their way through the graveyard of abandoned cars. Zoey curiously shone her flashlight through the shattered windshield of one to see a decaying corpse in the driver's seat. She gagged reflexively, and made sure not to look inside any more cars.

"It's pretty quiet out here," Louis commented.

Bill grunted in agreement. "That's fine by me. I'd rather not be ambushed by anything out here where there's virtually no cover."

Zoey looked around at the horrific crash, and sighed. "All these people. All these families. I wonder how many are left in the town."

"My family was over in New York when the infection broke out," Louis said worriedly. "I hope they're okay..." He looked over at Bill. "What about your family? Do you know if they got out in time?"

The war veteran said nothing.

Louis awkwardly looked over at Zoey. "How about you? Do you know where _your_ family is at?"

She looked away uncomfortably. Francis noticed this.

"Hey, Louis," he chimed in from behind them. "What do you say we save the conversation for when we're not open to attack from all sides?"

Zoey breathed a sigh of relief, and looked back at the big biker with gratitude in her eyes. He simply nodded in acknowledgement. She turned back to the front and gripped her Uzi tighter, as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

* * *

><p>The four survivors continued their trek over the broken highway, maintaining a vigilant watch for the Infected.<p>

Francis looked over his shoulder nervously, when he heard the sound of scampering feet in the trees nearby. He motioned for everyone to stop, and then slowly advanced toward the spot where the noise had come from. Louis went with him, while the others covered them from the road. They kept their guns trained on the bushes, their fingers tensed on the triggers. The bushes rustled slightly.

Suddenly, a large deer bounded out of the bushes, nearly trampling Francis in its desperate bid to escape. The biker yelled as he fell to the dirt while Louis watched the deer prance away, laughing.

Francis picked himself up and brushed himself off, grumbling. "Watch out!" he called back to Bill and Zoey. "Deer around here."

"You got a problem with deer?" Louis asked, puzzled, as they made their way back to the others.

"I hate deer."

After another half an hour of walking, the group came to a dried-up river gorge that cut across the highway. A bridge used to span the gap, but had been destroyed by means unknown.

"And of course the bridge is out..." Zoey grumbled.

"Fantastic," Francis uttered his annoyance.

Bill walked up to the edge of the demolished bridge and peered down into the foggy gorge. "It's not too deep," he called. "If we go down into the gorge, we should be able to find a way up on the other side."

Louis nodded in agreement, while Zoey and Francis kept their reservations to themselves. They made their down into the gorge, where it soon flattened out at the bottom. As they crossed the muddy bottom, Zoey looked up toward the other side. On the far side of the river gorge, she could barely make out a mountain ridge through the fog. They presently crossed the dried-up river and found themselves standing below the concrete bridge abutment on the other side.

"Another way up, huh?" Francis said condescendingly.

"Save it," Bill snapped.

"Hey, guys, there's a ladder over here!" Louis' voice drifted from nearby.

Bill shot a smug look at Francis, who narrowed his eyes and walked over to the ladder without another word. The veteran went up the steel ladder first, and then covered the rest of the group when they followed.

At the top, they were immediately confronted by the intimidating mountain ridge Zoey had seen earlier. Now that they were at its base, and could actually see it properly, they could discern the craggy outcrops and pointy peaks, high above. With the fog hanging in the air, the whole thing looked quite creepy. A road tunnel bore into the mountain, leading away into darkness.

"Aw, hell. I think we gotta go through this tunnel," Bill remarked sullenly.

Zoey shivered, recalling their experience back in the subway. "More dark tunnels? Oh, great."

"At least there aren't two Hunters after us this time," Louis pointed out.

"Yeah," Bill remarked, staring ahead into the gaping maw of the road tunnel. "That's what I'm worried about. We have no idea _what_ is in there."

Francis shone his flashlight into the tunnel and started walking. "Well, if you three wanna stand around and whine, that's your business. Anyone who wants to stop bitching can feel free to join me."

The others stared after him for a moment; surprised, impressed, and somewhat annoyed by his bravery and/or recklessness. After a few more moments of hesitation, they followed him into the darkness.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

I'm back from holiday, and decided to say Merry Christmas to you all with a new chapter.

Also, I have revised some of the previous chapters of this story again. I will give a special mention to _Chapter 15: The Horde_. The reason for this is that I have added a couple of extra paragraphs which I hope will provide more insight into Zoey's character. If you want to check it out, but don't want to read the entire chapter again, then read the part where Joe is dying, and immediately after.


	26. Chapter 25: The Road Tunnel

**Chapter 25: The Road Tunnel**

* * *

><p>Four cones of light flashed through the dark tunnel, illuminating the high ceiling and broken road, which was cluttered with abandoned cars and piles of rubble. The survivors picked their way through the various obstacles in the road.<p>

"Stay close. Nobody wander off," Bill whispered.

Francis led the way through the dark road tunnel, keeping a wary watch for hostiles. So far, they had encountered none, but they were steadily getting deeper under the mountain. Dripping water could be heard around them. Louis looked around nervously when he thought he heard the sound of pattering feet nearby. However, a sweep with his flashlight revealed nothing past the wrecked cars. But he still could not shake the unpleasant feeling he harboured in the pit of his stomach.

"Any idea how far this tunnel goes?" he whispered nervously.

"Probably a few miles," Bill replied.

"Great, just great..."

* * *

><p>The survivors carefully made their way through the silent tunnel, stopping whenever they heard a sound. However, the footsteps, moaning and growls that each person thought they heard faded into dead silence as soon as the group halted. Perhaps they were being imagined?<p>

Francis led the way with a grim determination. He hated the fact that they were stopping constantly – he just wanted to get through this damn tunnel as quickly as possible. The burly biker was surrounded on all sides by the shells of abandoned cars, illuminated by his flashlight. He quickly checked over his shoulder to see Bill urgently motioning for him to stop.

"What now?" he sighed heavily.

"Louis thought he heard footsteps," the older man replied evenly.

Francis bit his tongue to keep in check the foul mouthed, and probably politically incorrect, string of words building behind his lips. Instead, he covered the front while the others covered the sides and rear for a full minute, staring intently into the darkness. Nothing came at them, and Francis rolled his eyes inwardly and moved to continue on.

A horrifying, bloodcurdling shriek cut through the tunnel, scaring everyone out of their wits. They stood cautiously and aimed their weapons around, visibly shaken.

Moments later, a second terrifying shriek _whooshed_ by them to the side, but the source of the sound was already out of sight when four flashlights snapped in its direction.

Bill hefted his shotgun and moved toward the wall of the tunnel carefully. He was done playing hide-and-seek with this little bastard. He came up to a wrecked car, took a deep breath, and threw himself around it –

He frowned in surprise. There was nothing there. He rejoined the others, shaking his head. "We've gotta keep moving. This tunnel is a death-trap."

No one objected, and they continued their tense journey through the road tunnel that they hoped would bring them to their rescue in Riverside on the other side.

"Hold up," Bill whispered carefully after a short march.

The survivors found themselves at a scene of total carnage; car wrecks and pile-ups served as testament to yet another horrific crash that had occurred here. Smashed glass covered the ground liberally, as well as a number of bodies, some of which were badly burned. Death lingered in the air. They looked at the strewn corpses sorrowfully. Suddenly, Bill frowned. He could have sworn that he saw one twitch a second ago –

"Um, is it me, or are these bodies moving?" Louis said nervously.

They watched in horror as several of the bodies began twitching and moaning, and slowly rising to their feet. The tunnel was filled with the sound of low, soulless moans. Zoey felt her skin crawling as the people turned their heads and transfixed them in their empty gazes, devoid of any emotion.

Suddenly, Francis lifted his shotgun. "Stay dead, you assholes!" he roared, blasting the nearest one off its feet.

The loud gunshot agitated the other Common Infected, who uttered howls of fury as they charged toward the four survivors. Muzzle flashes lit up the tunnel, and shadows danced across the walls and roof. Silhouetted blood projected across the walls, and several shadows jerked and convulsed as their real-life counterparts were assaulted with a hail of bullets.

Louis and Zoey hung back, flames erupting from their Uzis as their fingers depressed the triggers. The staccato of automatic gunfire was punctuated by the thunderous booms of shotguns going off as Bill and Francis covered the front of the group with expert precision, mowing down the snarling attackers before they could ever reach them.

Zoey presently heard a loud _BANG_ behind her and whirled around to see a couple of Infected bounding across the hoods and roofs of cars toward them. A burst from her submachine gun sent one of them toppling backward over the roof of a car, while the other one crashed headfirst into a windshield in a hail of flying glass.

The snarling echoing off the concrete walls of the tunnel gradually ceased, and the small skirmish was over quickly. Bill wiped his brow with his sleeve and exhaled a whoosh of air in relief.

"We got lucky, but I don't want to hang around to find out how many more there are in this tunnel. Let's haul ass to the exit."

* * *

><p>The survivors advanced in a wary silence, gripping their weapons tightly. Their terrifying experiences in this horrible tunnel had strained them all to breaking point. They needed to find the exit, or somewhere to hole up, or they would be in serious trouble.<p>

"Hey, there's a sign!" Louis whispered excitedly. "The exit is just around the bend up ahead!"

Everyone's spirits rose dramatically with the news, and they quickened the pace. However, as soon as they came around the bend in the road, it was clear that something was wrong.

"What the fuck is that?" Francis growled.

Bill's frown deepened at the sight of the tall and impenetrable barrier of cement, concrete and wood that spanned the entire length of the road tunnel. "Son of a bitch!" he cursed, kicking at the barricade. "They sealed off the tunnel into town!"

"Shit!" Louis swore. "_Now_ what do we do?"

"Guys, through here!" Zoey suddenly called, motioning them toward a doorway set into the side wall. "I think it leads to some sort of maintenance tunnel."

"Better than standin' out in the open," Bill grunted.

With that, the former student led the others through the doorway and into a tight concrete stairwell, where she was presented with the choice of the following the stairs up or down. Without a second thought, she went up and found an open door, leading into a pump house of sorts. Through it, she saw exactly what she had been hoping for: sunlight filtered through the cracks between the planks of several boarded-up windows. The murky outlines of machinery and pumping stations could be seen through the doorway.

She made her way toward the room eagerly when she stumbled on something lying on the ground. She looked down to see the strangest sight – a long, rubbery appendage snaked along the floor, deep purple in colour. It looked almost like a _tentacle_ of some sort. One end of it had been severed – it must have detached from its owner for some reason. The rest of it, however, ran away into the shadows.

"Hey, Zoey, what are you looking at?" came Louis' voice from behind her.

Her gaze followed the "tentacle" to where it came to rest near the wall, and what she saw made her gag. The horribly mutilated body of a young man lay slumped against the concrete wall, his head split open like a cracked egg. A foul soup of blood and brains spilled from the opening, covering the entire left side of his face. But even that was not enough to mask the expression of terror and agony forever frozen on his face.

"Ho-ly shit," Francis said gruffly when he saw the grisly sight, bile rising in his throat.

Bill noticed the tentacle-like appendage coiling along the floor and saw that the other end of it was wrapped firmly around the neck of the corpse in a grim noose. "Whatever this thing is, it must have been used to choke this poor bastard."

"Come on, let's get inside," Louis said, ushering the others toward the pump house. "We can find something to barricade the door."

Bill cast one last glance at the tentacle that lay on the ground at his feet. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts of the anomalies they had encountered back in Fairfield: the strange puddle of green goo, the Hunters, that wraith-like woman that had almost shredded them back in the alleyway. The creature with a fist large enough to pummel the entire side of a helicopter.

Just what the hell kind of mutations were occurring throughout the Infected?


	27. Chapter 26: The Drains

**Chapter 26: The Drains**

* * *

><p>Bill lit up a cigarette and surveyed the rest of the team, who had all collapsed where they stood in the dingy pump house. He walked over to the boarded-up windows and peeked through the gaps in the planks at the outside world basking in the morning light, before turning to address the others.<p>

"Well, we need a new plan."

"Sleep," Francis deadpanned, lying face-down on the concrete floor.

"I mean a plan on getting to Riverside," Bill sighed, shooting the biker a scathing look.

Francis wearily sat up and leaned against some pumping machinery. "And what plan would _that_ be?" he snarled. "You saw the barricade. The army sealed off the damn tunnel! I _knew_ coming here was a waste of time!"

"Francis..." Zoey sighed.

He turned his head and rounded on her. "This was _your_ idea, Zoey! You based our plans on a retarded list written on a random wall by some dick who's probably dead by now!"

"At least I _had_ a plan!" she snapped back. "One which extended past sitting on my ass in a deckchair!"

While the others bickered, Louis took the time to look around the pump house. His eyes widened when he saw a service hatch tucked away in the corner of the room.

"Hey, guys!" he called out. However, no one acknowledged him, all too caught up in taking pot-shots at each other. "Guys!" he called again, louder this time. "I think I've found something!"

Bill looked over at him. "What?"

"This pump house, it must serve the drain and sewerage system of Riverside," he said excitedly. "I'll bet that service hatch over there gives access into the drain system, and we can use _that_ to get to the town."

Francis groaned. "_Again_ with the sewers, Louis?"

Bill, however, was considering this course of action. He walked over to a desk sitting at the base of some tall pumping machinery and found some blueprints of the drainage system that ran beneath the town.

"Louis, you beautiful son of a bitch, I think you might be onto something here." He lay the blueprint down on the floor in the middle of the group, tracing his forefinger across it. "That hatch _does_ lead into a service pipe, which we can follow to get to these floodgates. Then, it's a simple matter of following the drains on the west side, and then we can pop up out of any manhole that we choose."

"But what do these red lines here mean?" Zoey asked thoughtfully, pointing out several red scrawls on the blueprints. They crossed a number of westward pipes, and were not a part of the original blueprints. Someone had marked the schematics with them.

Bill shrugged. "No idea," he admitted.

"Am I the only one who _doesn't_ like the idea of entering _another_ sewer system?" the stocky biker quipped. "Especially with the sun up outside. Vitamin D is important, you know."

Louis shot him a look of genuine surprise. "What do you know about Vitamin D?"

Bill extinguished his cigarette butt on the floor. "Unless you have a better idea, Francis, this is the only way into Riverside."

The others looked at him expectantly, waiting for an objection. Although she did not admit it, Zoey secretly hoped that he _did_ have another suggestion; one that did not involve them entering yet another series of underground tunnels. However, he simply lay back down on the floor and closed his eyes.

"It's settled, then," Bill said, folding up the blueprint and tucking it into his pocket. "Louis, you got some sleep on the truck on the way in, so you take the first watch. Everyone else, get some rest. We'll move out in five hours. We all okay with that?"

Francis did not bother to answer, while Zoey nodded unenthusiastically, lying down on the hard concrete floor. She would have liked to have made a pillow with her jacket, but it was a little too cold for her to do that.

* * *

><p>"<em>Damn,<em> what is that _smell?_" Francis complained.

"Take a wild guess," Bill replied.

The team of survivors made their way through a tight, circular drainpipe, which was just large enough for them to stand in without bumping their heads. The passages were narrow, forcing the survivors to advance in single file. The tightness of the tunnels left Zoey with a slight feeling of claustrophobia. She shook her head and tried to ignore it, but every time she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, it slowly came creeping back.

"How much further are the floodgates?" she asked Bill.

"Not too far. About a ten minute walk, I should think."

Louis walked out in front of the group, aiming his flashlight and Uzi down the dark drain. He hated taking point, almost as much as he hated covering the back.

"These service lines must be the overflow pipes for Riverside," he commented absentmindedly.

"You know what?" Francis said behind him. "I don't care! Lead on."

The deep puddle of water came up without warning, and the former business man stepped right into it. "Aw, _shit!_"

"Hey, it was your idea to come down here, Louis," Zoey said teasingly.

"It was _your_ idea to come to Riverside!" he snapped back, clearly annoyed.

He made to pull his foot up out of the water when he suddenly felt something bump up against it below the surface. He panicked and ripped his foot out of the water, disturbing whatever was beneath the surface. He looked down in horror to see _several_ unidentified objects break the surface of the rank water.

"What's the hold-up?" Bill called from behind him.

"There's something in the water..." Louis breathed, aiming his flashlight downward.

He immediately wished he hadn't. A number of mutilated body parts had come floating to the surface of the deep puddle. The dismembered limbs of several people were floating in the dark water, waterlogged and well into the process of decay. Zoey gagged, and nearly vomited at the sight, while the others looked equally horrified.

"Those poor people..." she whispered.

Bill momentarily removed his beret, held it to his chest and bowed his head. "Rest in peace."

"More like rest in pieces," Francis remarked. He looked around to see the others staring at him angrily. "What?"

Bill grabbed him by the collar and slammed him hard against the side of the drain.

"What the fuck!" the biker bellowed.

The older man glared at him for a moment, and then marched off without another word. Zoey and Louis exchanged glances, before following Bill, being sure to give the watery grave a wide berth.

"It was just a joke..." Francis muttered as he brushed himself off. He looked down at the grim pool and the dead bodies one last time. Shivering, he took off to catch up with the others.


	28. Chapter 27: The Floodgates

**Chapter 27: The Floodgates**

* * *

><p>"We're here," Bill announced as his ragtag team emerged from the pipes into a large flood room. They stood on a metal catwalk above a rather deep pool of grimy water that covered the entire floor. No one wanted to think about what might be lurking below the surface.<p>

"Great," Louis said, still rather shaken from the grisly discovery he had unwillingly made not so long ago. He was now very eager to get out of these sewers. "So, where are these tunnels that we have to go down?"

Bill consulted the map, and then pointed across the room. "Over there."

Zoey looked. "Um, I don't see 'em Bill," she pointed out.

"This doesn't make any sense…" He pored over the blueprints. "Unless… Ah, _shit_."

"What?" she asked, with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"The pipelines are underwater."

"…Can we swim through them?" Louis asked, feeling sick at the thought.

"I ain't swimmin' in _that_ shit," Francis growled.

Bill shook his head dejectedly. "These drains go on for hundreds of metres. There's no way we'd be able to hold our breaths for that long." He was bitterly disappointed with himself, having led his people into a death-trap, with no foreseeable way out.

Zoey, however, found herself looking thoughtfully at the large floodgates on either side of the room. "Do you think the machinery in here still works?"

"I think so," the war veteran said, scratching his scraggly beard. "According to these notes, the army installed some generators to be able to control the flow of water throughout the drains. They were probably trying to turn it into some kind of defence mechanism."

"That's it!" she said excitedly. "If we lower the floodgates to drain the room, then we'll be able to access the west pipelines."

He looked over at the floodgates and considered this course of action, impressed with the student's intuitive thinking. "You know... that just might work."

With that, they climbed up a steel ladder to a higher catwalk, and then made their way over to the control panel. Bill stepped forward and flicked the master switch. The panel came to life, lights flickering on all over the display.

_Well, looks like those generators are still up and running…_ He looked over at the others. "Here goes nothing..." With that, he pulled the lever.

A loud rumbling reverberated throughout the room as the floodgates began to lower into the ground. Zoey saw the water level immediately begin to lower as it was released from the room.

"It's working!" she called out.

At that moment, the loud rumbling was accompanied by ominous roars and howls echoing throughout the sewers.

"Oh, SHIT!" Louis shouted over the deafening noise. "They can hear the floodgates!"

Zoey gripped her Uzi nervously, while Francis pumped his shotgun in anticipation. He took up position near the ladder, to make optimum use of his shotgun's effectiveness at close range while minimising danger to himself. Louis and Zoey got themselves into positions that gave them a commanding view of the room, and checked their submachine guns. The din of bloodthirsty growls drew closer, seemingly emanating from all around them.

Bill jogged over to her. "How are you for ammo?"

"I still have an Uzi and some M1911 clips left," she replied.

The old man offered her his combat knife. "Here. Just in case."

She blanched. "Oh, I... don't know. I already have enough trouble shooting them as it is. I don't know if I'd be able to..."

"Take the knife, Zoey," he persisted. "They have no qualms with getting in close-quarters with you, and you have to be prepared for that."

"What about you?"

"I'll find another one."

Louis was the first to open fire on the hordes of Infected that began spilling out of side tunnels, drains and pipelines, murder on their minds. The others followed suit as the Common Infected drew nearer. Francis blasted the top half of a man's head away as he attempted to climb the ladder, and his limp body toppled back down, knocking down several people below him.

Gufire rippled throughout the large room, accompanied by wild, bloodcurdling screams. Zoey looked down in alarm to see several hands clawing over the edge of the catwalk. She redirected her Uzi downward and riddled the attackers with a hail of bullets at point-blank range, sending them shrieking from the platform. A loud _CLICK_ informed her that she was out of ammunition.

"Crap…" she muttered irritably as she drew her M1911 from its holster.

She fired her pistol wildly, taking down several more Infected and consuming another clip. She had just finished reloading when she felt something slimy and wet wrap itself around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

"_Shit!_" she cried, struggling against the tentacle-like appendage. It started to pull her away from the others, toward a side tunnel. "_GUUUUUYS! HEEEEEEELLLLLLP!_"

However, the others were fighting for their lives, and did not notice that one of their own was being dragged away.

"HELP!" Zoey screamed again.

The disgusting, wet tentacle dragged her into a dark pipe and around a corner. Barely managing to stay on her feet, she struggled with all her might, but could not break free. Suddenly, she remembered the knife that Bill had given to her earlier. She fumbled her hand around her belt and grasped desperately for the knife-hilt. With an awkward twisting of her wrist, she managed to manoeuvre her hand upward and then sawed through the slimy appendage.

Zoey heard a loud shriek of pain from somewhere nearby, undoubtedly the owner of the tentacle. It was still wrapped around her body, but she had now managed to free one of her arms. She twisted her body around and brought her knife hand down viciously, slashing through it again. Another howl of pain echoed throughout the drain, and Zoey managed to free herself completely. She looked around fearfully for the monster to which the appendage belonged, but the creature was still out of sight, around the corner.

_Just how damn long _is_ that tentacle…?_

The rubbery appendage twitched, visibly wounded. However, it was still dangerous. It lashed out at Zoey again, tripping her. She landed on her back and gasped as the wind was knocked from her lungs. She looked up to see it lunging at her again. She rolled to her feet, gripping the knife tightly with both hands and slashing at the tentacle whenever it came near. She engaged in a desperate fighting retreat against the snaking appendage and finally, when she felt that she was far enough, turned and ran headlong into the pipe system in a desperate bid to get away.

She could have sworn that, in the wild swinging of her flashlight, she saw the monster emerge from around the corner – a tall, gangly figure, its upper body tilted over to one side. But there was no way in hell that she was sticking around. The tentacle chased her for a short distance, but then stopped short – its owner must have been out of range.

Zoey kept on running for at least five minutes after that, ignoring the searing pain in her side and her shortness of breath. She did not dare to stop – terrified that the moment she did would be when the tentacle shot out of the darkness at her again. It was only when her lungs felt like they were about to burst from her chest did she stop, taking a moment to catch her breath and regain her wits.

The direness of the situation hit her like a brick wall – she was separated from the others, and completely alone in a dark sewer system, filled to the brink with the Infected. She needed to find her friends as quickly as possible.

She cupped her hands to her mouth. "BILL! LOUIS! FRANCIS!" There was no reply, but she tried again. "GUUUUUUUYS! WHERE ARE YOU?"

The only response that she received was dead silence

* * *

><p>Several more gunshots rang out in the floodgate control room, and the last few Infected toppled over, their blood seeping into the thin layer of water that was left covering the floor of the large room. The rest of the water had flown away into the side drainage tunnels.<p>

"Everyone alright?" Bill called out, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath. "Sound off if you're still alive."

"Over here," came Louis' voice from across the room.

"Psssh, they never had a chance," Francis said cockily, coming up behind Bill.

After a few moments of silence, the old man looked around. "Zoey?" There was no reply.

"Hey, Zoey, this isn't funny," Louis said nervously.

"Zoey!" Bill called again, feeling sick to the pit of his stomach.

The three of them searched every inch of the room, and even took to checking the dead bodies to see if she was among them. However, they came up empty-handed. She was gone.

* * *

><p>Zoey crept through the drains, calling for the others. A quaver of fear crept into her voice that became more and more pronounced each time she did not receive an answer.<p>

_**"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

She snapped her gaze toward a horrible scream from behind her to see an infected woman running at her, covered in slime and muck from the sewers, and loosely resembling Zoey's mental image of the "Boogie Man" that had tormented her when she was a little girl. Three panicked shots felled the beast and silence descended upon the drains once more.

...Except that this time, it was not completely quiet. Zoey heard a muffled sob nearby, which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. More sobs followed, causing her to involuntarily recall the similar crying that she had heard in an alleyway back in Fairfield. The same crying that had drawn her, Bill and Louis into a room with a wraith-like woman who had nearly torn them all to shreds.

Her sense of déjà vu proved correct. With a trembling hand, she slowly turned her flashlight toward the sound to see the dark outline of _another_ gangly, thin and menacing figure crouching hunched over, crying. Zoey recalled the other woman they had encountered back in Fairfield, who had looked very similar to this one. The extremely thin figure, greying skin, white hair and cruel-looking claws. _The Blair Witch Project_ was one of the first horror movies that Zoey had ever watched, and for some strange reason, the figure she saw hunched before her was how she had always envisioned what the Blair Witch would look like.

Zoey switched off the flashlight and crept away down the drainpipe in the opposite direction, hearing an occasional sob from the "Witch", before she heard footsteps in front of her. Terrified, she turned her flashlight back on to see a pale, blood-covered man approaching her rapidly. Without thinking, she raised her pistol and splattered his brains across the side of the pipeline. Dead silence descended over the drain system.

Zoey's skin crawled as she took in the silence around her. With a shock, she realised what was so wrong. She could no longer hear the Witch crying. Zoey found herself nearly paralysed with fear. She slowly turned the flashlight back around to where the pale wraith had originally sat, weeping. There was nothing there anymore. The Witch had disappeared.


	29. Chapter 28: Witch

**Chapter 28: Witch**

* * *

><p>Zoey stood rooted to the spot in fear. The Witch was gone.<p>

_Where is she?_

The former college student presently remembered how agitated the last Witch had gotten when Louis had shined a flashlight in its face, and she reluctantly switched off the light, plunging the area into complete darkness. Her skin was crawling – the darkness felt alive around her.

_She's still in here with me._

___SSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRK...___

Zoey's train of thought was broken by the horrifying sound of nails – or claws – being scraped and dragged along the side wall of the drain. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard, only a thousand times worse. The sound came from off to her side, tracing along the wall and coming closer. She braced herself and readied her pistol.

The terrible sound abruptly stopped, and silence fell over the sewers once more. Zoey gripped her pistol tightly.

Without warning, the horrible scratching started again, this time on her other side.

__SSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRK...__

Zoey shook violently with fear, and struggled to hold back the tears that were on the verge of flowing. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and bit her trembling lower lip to stop herself from screaming.

* * *

><p>Bill huffed forward through the drainpipe, not bothering to slow down for Louis or Francis, even when they asked him to.<p>

"ZOEY!" he shouted again.

In the panicked minutes immediately following the discovery that she was missing, it had been decided to enter the drainpipe closest to where they last remembered seeing her. They called her name, desperately hoping that she would be able to hear their voices and find her way back to them. Without any semblance of a real plan, Bill felt incredibly anxious. What if she been dragged away into a tunnel and something had got her –

"Zoey!" Louis called from behind.

"Is that the loudest you can yell, son?" the veteran snapped, slowing his run. "I was under the impression that you had a pair." He stopped and cupped his hands to his mouth once again. "ZOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYY!"

The silence was abruptly rent by ominous inhuman howls. The search party stopped dead to hear the sounds of running feet coming toward them.

"Um, I don't think that's Zoey!" Louis cried.

Bill shined the light on his shotgun further down the tunnel to see three Common Infected charging at them. "Ya think?"

He and Francis opened fire with their shotguns, while Louis hung back, firing his Uzi.

"Die, you ugly bitch!" Francis hollered, blowing away the side of a woman's head and sending greyish-pink brain matter arcing through the air. Silence fell over the sewer system once more as their attackers crumpled to the ground.

Without wasting a second, Bill cupped a hand to his mouth again. "ZOEY!"

"Bill!" Francis said sharply. "All that yelling is just gonna keep bringin' more and more Infected to us!"

"I don't care," he replied stubbornly. "Unless you have a better idea, I'm gonna keep on shouting, and I'll shoot my way through a _hundred_ people, if it means that Zoey is able to find her way back to us safely."

"But she might not even be alive – "

The biker's argument was cut short as Bill grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him hard up against the wall again. Louis watched the scene unfold in a shocked silence, and the fiery look in the war veteran's eyes prompted Francis to keep his mouth shut.

"Don't talk like that," he said, his voice low, calm and dangerous. After a moment, he released his grip on Francis and continued on into the sewers.

* * *

><p>Zoey stood irresolute, her haggard breathing being the only sound she could hear. It had been five minutes, but she had not since heard anything else. Was the Witch still around? Was it watching her? She fumbled with her flashlight. Should she turn it back on? Start calling for the others? But she did not want to aggravate the Witch any more than she already had.<p>

She lifted her head when she heard something in the distance. It was faint, but it sounded like... a voice. After a few more seconds, she heard it again.

_"...Zoey...!"_

Her heart soared. _Bill! Thank God they're okay!_

She pointed her flashlight down at her feet, carefully turned it on, and slowly raised it to look around. She knew that if the Witch was still around, and she startled it again, she was dead meat. She slowly shone the flashlight around the tunnel, and finally gave a heavy sigh of relief. Her tormentor was nowhere to be seen.

"...Zoey!"

She carefully set off down the tunnel toward the voices, fervently hoping that she would not run into any more Infected. The voices called her name a few more times, before gunfire erupted from somewhere in the tunnel up ahead. Zoey broke into a run, the sounds of battle coming closer. Finally, she rounded a corner and saw lights, only to be shot at for her trouble.

"Shit!" she cried throwing herself back around the corner. "It's me!"

Bill's sharp voice rang throughout the tunnel. "Louis, you fuckin' idjit! Hold your fire!"

"Whoops! Sorry, Zoey!" he cried.

She slowly came around the corner, and felt her spirits soar when she saw her comrades standing there, amid a pile of freshly-killed Common Infected.

"Zoey, thank god you're okay!" Bill exclaimed. "When you disappeared, I thought..." His voice trailed off.

She walked right up to him and hugged him happily. "I've never been happier to see you guys," she whispered.

Bill and Louis smiled, while Francis gave her a brief nod. Although he did not admit it, he was glad that she was okay.

"What happened to you?" Louis asked.

Zoey shuddered at the very recent memory. "Something grabbed me, and dragged me into a tunnel. It was some kind of tentacle."

Bill's frown deepened at her words. _Just like that thing we saw back in the road tunnel…?_

"I managed to use the knife to cut myself loose and get away," she continued. "It chased me for a while, but I outran it."

"A tentacle, huh?" Louis said in a worried tone. "What the hell? Do we have a mutant octopus on our hands?"

"Let's not stick around and find out," Bill chimed in. "Let's keep moving. Zoey, you'd better hang onto that knife. I don't want you ending up like that poor bastard we saw back in the tunnel."

* * *

><p>With help from the blueprints Bill had recovered, the survivors were able to find their way back to the floodgates without too much trouble. They were not attacked by any more Infected, but everyone was rather anxious to escape from the sewers after Zoey had mentioned that, in addition to the tentacle monster, there was also a "Witch" wandering around (or, as Louis colourfully put it, a "creepy Snow White crying bitch").<p>

"Through those pipes," Bill said, pointing at the now-visible tunnels on the west wall of the room.

They followed one of the narrow pipes westward for roughly a hundred metres, until they found their way obstructed by a steel grate blocking the entire length of the tunnel.

"What the fuck!" Francis growled angrily. "I thought this way was supposed to be clear!"

"I thought so too..." Bill mumbled, pulling out the map once again. It was then that he noticed the red lines on the diagram that Zoey had pointed out before, back in the pump-house. "Ah, damn... These red lines must be indicators for these grates. The army probably had them installed to keep the Infected from getting through."

"That's just fantastic. They did a wonderful job fortifying themselves inside the town, while not letting _anyone else_ get in!"

"Can we try another tunnel?" Louis asked.

Bill shook his head. "It seems like they blocked off every pipe with a direct link to the town."

Zoey sighed in frustration. "So _now_ what do we do?"

The old veteran traced his finger along the map. "We _could_ use the manhole there…" he pointed back down the way they came, "…about twenty metres back. We won't pop up in Riverside, but we'll come out near enough. Then, we should be able to just make our way into town on foot."

"Lead the way," Francis said. "If I have to smell these sewers any longer, I just might shoot myself."

"Hold onto that thought."

With that, the group made their way back down the tunnel until they came to a ladder set into the wall.

Bill slung his shotgun over his shoulder. "I'll go first."

"Be careful," Zoey told him.

The old man shimmied up the ladder with surprising agility. The others watched as he removed the manhole cover above and climbed out of the sewers. There was a short silence, and then –

"_Hurry up,_ get your asses up here!" he shouted. "We've got company!" Gunfire erupted with shocking suddenness.

"Damnit, _damnit!_" Zoey cursed, immediately starting up the ladder to help him.

She came out at the top and emerged onto a grassy field surrounded by warehouses, workshops and a chain-link fence that separated them from a dark tree-line. She barely registered that it was getting dark.

_Already night-time? It was early in the afternoon when we set out. We were in that damn drain system for the better part of a _day_._

She saw several Common Infected rushing at Bill, who downed the forerunners with expertly-fired shots. However, one of them bit the old man's outstretched hand, causing him to cry out in pain. He grappled with two people, but they violently hurled him to the ground and started tearing into him with their claws.

Zoey cursed and shot the nearest one through the head, and then desperately shoved Bill's remaining attacker off him. It was all the invitation the war veteran needed to raise his sidearm and fire the killing shot into the creature's eye in a spurt of blood.

Louis emerged from the sewers to see Zoey going to help Bill to his feet, unaware of several more snarling figures approaching her from behind.

"Look out!" he shouted, firing a short burst from his Uzi. Heads jerked back and puffs of dark liquid spurted into the air as their bodies crumpled the ground; dark pools spreading out under them.

Meanwhile, Zoey ran over to Bill and helped him up, worriedly eyeing the bloody bite mark on his hand, and the number of scratches and bruises that he had sustained in the attack.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, kid," he said gruffly, shrugging off the pain. "Thanks for savin' my ass, or I would've been done for."

"Hey!" Francis yelled behind them. "We've gotta find cover!"

The others looked back to see more Common Infected sprinting across the field at them, shrieking like banshees. Louis let loose with an extended burst of gunfire, sending the leading attackers crashing down in a hail of hot lead. The stand consumed the last of his Uzi ammunition, and he tossed the gun aside.

"Make for the workshop!" he cried, pointing behind them to a large building. The open service door was clearly visible – a dark and ominous opening.

"You sure we should go in there?" Zoey called over to him.

"Better than staying out here!"

"Good point."

With that, the four survivors sprinted across the yard, chased by over a dozen raving figures. They entered the workshop, and the light from their flashlights revealed a red-painted caboose sitting on a service gantry.

"Get into the caboose!" Bill yelled, leading the others up into the train car.

Francis quickly slammed the rear door shut, plunging the interior cabin into darkness. The sound of many fists pounding on the door came moments later. The group looked at each other through the light of their flashlights nervously, knowing full well that the incessant pounding meant that there was no turning back.


	30. Chapter 29: The Church: Part I

**Chapter 29: The Church: Part I**

* * *

><p>Francis leaned against the side wall of the train car as the incessant pounding continued on the outside of the caboose. Zoey pulled the medical pack off Bill's back and coaxed him to sit down on the floor to address the scratches all over his arms.<p>

"Don't worry, I'm fine," he insisted.

"You're hurt, Bill."

She tried to ignore the pounding reverberating throughout the caboose as she cleaned the bloodied bite-mark on his hand. It looks pretty painful, and she heard the older man hiss as she applied antiseptic to the wound. However once it was dressed, given time, it would heal. While she tended to his injuries, Louis had taken to exploring the caboose. While there was not much to see, he did find another door at the far end of the train car.

"Hey guys, I think we can get out through here!"

Francis shot one last look at the door they had entered the car from – the only thing separating them from an insane mob of bloodthirsty people – before going over to check out Louis' discovery.

"You see, the train car is blocking the way through the service gantry, so the Infected knocking outside won't be able to follow us," the other man pointed out.

Francis gently eased the door open with his shotgun and looked outside. He could see the dark outlines of trains, workshops, sheds, and some sort of tower against the night sky. "Well, I guess it's better than nothing."

* * *

><p>Once Zoey was satisfied that Bill's injuries had been tended to, the group ventured out of the caboose and found themselves at the edge of an abandoned train-yard.<p>

"Not a fan of creepy old train-yards," she commented.

As they moved further into the dark area, they made sure to check behind train cars, dispatching the occasional Common Infected they came across quickly and quietly. Thankfully, there were very few hiding in the area.

"We should check out that tower," Bill said, pointed to the rickety-looking wooden structure that stood watch over the area.

While Louis and Francis kept watch at the bottom, he and Zoey carefully climbed the steps, and came to the cabin room at the top. She shone her flashlight in the door, and what she saw made her blood chill. What was left of a man was lying on the floor, torn to shreds. His rib-cage was exposed, and one of his legs had been torn off. The expression frozen on his face was one of terror and indescribable agony.

Bill carefully stepped past the body toward the window. "Here," he said, throwing a couple of M1911 clips over to her.

"Thanks, she replied, placing them in the holster buckled at her hip.

Something leaning against the wall caught the war veteran's attention. "A sniper rifle!" he exclaimed, handing his shotgun to Zoey and picking up the scoped rifle. "This will definitely come in handy."

"Glad you found a new toy," she teased. "So, do you know which way we have to go to get to Riverside?"

Bill unattached the scope from the sniper rifle and walked up to the window, looking through the scope and surveying the area. "That way," he said, pointing. "I can see a road leading toward the town."

They climbed down from the tower to rejoin Louis and Francis, and then crossed the train-yard toward a dark park. Bill led the way toward the road he had seen earlier, bordered on both sides by thick woods. Zoey looked into the dark trees and shivered. She could not shake the unpleasant feeling that they were being watched.

_It's fine. After what happened in the drains, this'll be a walk in the park... A very spooky and sinister park..._

"Why'd you have to pick the creepiest route into town, Bill?" Louis asked, looking warily into the withered trees.

"Cut the chatter…"

They walked in silence for several minutes after that, keeping a cautious watch on all sides, fully expecting company to come bursting out of the trees at any minute. It was a very unpleasant walk, and although nothing happened, everyone's nerves were frayed by the time they approached a quaint little stone footbridge crossing over a dried-up creek; the bed of the latter covered with dead leaves.

Rustling came from the woods, causing everyone to stop nervously. They aimed their flashlights toward the sound, but their weak beams could not penetrate very far into the trees, and the noise had stopped anyway. Perhaps it was just leaves being blown in the wind?

_What wind…?_ Zoey pointed out to herself.

However, any reservations they had held about the woods were quickly blotted out by another chilling sound. Crying.

"Aw, hell…" Bill muttered.

"Where's it coming from?" Louis whispered.

"I don't know. Take it slow and easy. We don't wanna piss her off…"

This 'nice and pleasant' walk through the park was going to hell in hand-basket real fast. Bill led the way toward the stone bridge, all the while hearing piercing and tortured sobs echoing all around him. Zoey shuddered – her last encounter with a Witch had practically reduced her to a sobbing mess, but at least she was with the others now. The crying was so loud – they couldn't see the culprit, but she had to be close…

"She's under the bridge!" Louis hissed in a moment of realisation.

"Goddamn it," Francis spat. "It's one of those crazy chicks with the claws, isn't it?"

"Stay quiet…" Bill murmured. "If we don't disturb her, we'll be alright."

The four of them stood in a tense silence for a moment, listening to the Witch as she continued to cry under the stone bridge.

"Are we gonna have to take a detour through the woods then?" Francis scowled.

Bill shook his head. "We'll cross over the bridge and keep following the path on the other side."

"In case you forgot, there's a goddamn _bitch_ under that bridge."

"Yes, but if we go _over_ the bridge, then she won't see us and come after us. We'll cross one at a time. Walk on the sides of your feet, and make as little noise as possible."

"This is a shit plan."

Zoey grimaced for a couple of reasons, one of which being Francis making known his opinion of the proposed course of action, as usual. He was one of the most stubborn and hard-headed guys she had ever met, particularly when dealing with Louis. She had the feeling that if he acknowledged Francis as the best zombie hunter in the world, the burly biker would disagree out of spite.

However, her other reason for grimacing was that she secretly agreed with him. There was a first time for everything right? And she definitely did _not_ like this plan. However, the alternative was walking through the pitch-black woods.

Louis went first, slowly approaching the footbridge with his pistol drawn. The crying steadily grew louder as he approached. Oh yeah, the Witch was _definitely_ down there. He took a deep breath, took his first tentative steps up onto the bridge, and then paused. The infected woman continued to weep, oblivious to his presence. The young man allowed himself to relax slightly, and finished the crossing without incident. Francis went next and joined him on the other side without a hitch.

Zoey followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She _so_ did not want to do this. On the other hand, the other Witch back in the drains hadn't disembowelled her, even after she had discharged a weapon right near her. There should not be a problem out here, right?

The crying stopped, and a viscous growl drifted out from under the bridge.

Zoey immediately stopped walking and gripped the handrail. _Oh god, oh god, oh god…_

Bill and the others abruptly drew their weapons and pointed them at the bridge, ready to open fire. However, after a nerve-wracking silence, the Witch resumed her crying, which they took as a good sign. Hell, at least she wasn't growling anymore. Bill lowered his pistol slowly, looked up at Zoey and gave her a reassuring nod. She slowly crossed the rest of the bridge and gave a heavy sigh of relief when she came to the bottom of the ramp on the other side.

Bill grimaced as he carefully walked up the ramp and onto the stone footbridge. He had made it just over halfway when the infected woman below him started panting and growling, obviously agitated. He stopped walking, but the growling continued.

_ Oh, shit. I gotta get off this bridge…_

To everyone's surprise, he continued to cross.

"Idiot old man," Francis growled. "He's gonna make her snap."

"That Witch is not happy," Zoey murmured in agreement.

Bill reached the other side and slowly backed away from the bridge, pistol raised. The Witch's furious growls continued for a little while longer. However, the sounds abruptly stopped, and the group saw a dark figure emerging from under the bridge, slinking up and out of the creek-bed, and stalking away into the trees on the other side. No one dared to move or say anything for several minutes.

"That was _too_ close," Louis finally breathed.

* * *

><p>The ragtag group followed the pathway through the park for ten more minutes. The Witch fortunately did not come after them, but they did encounter several Common Infected lurking on the path or off to the side. Zoey returned Bill's knife to him, which he used to carefully creep forward and slash their throats before they knew what hit them. The last one saw the old man coming and screeched furiously, but was silenced with a pistol shot to the head.<p>

The trees abruptly thinned out, and a church was visible in the distance. The spire rose up into the air, lit up by two floodlights aimed at it.

Bill looked at the structure in surprise. "There are lights on in that church!"

"Maybe the army is holding out there!" Zoey said hopefully.

The four survivors left the path and passed through a gate in a stone wall, finding themselves at the south-east edge of an old cemetery in the church yard. The moon was obscured by a pall of clouds, but its pale light still filtered through, illuminating the old tombstones and leafless, withered trees that ran along the perimeter of the area.

However, despite the grim situation, Zoey could not help but giggle. "Dunn-dunnn-_dunnnn!_" She looked around to see the others looking at her like she had grown a second head.

"Got a screw loose, kid?" Bill remarked.

"Well, I mean, _come on_, guys! We're standing at the edge of a creepy old cemetery in the middle of the night? Talk about cliché!"

Before anyone could answer, a bloodthirsty scream cut through the air. They looked back in alarm to see several Common Infected come tearing out of the woods toward them, snarling viscously.

"Into the graveyard!" Louis yelled, motioning the others forward with a wave of his arm._ I can't believe I just said that!_

Muzzle-flashes lit up the cemetery as the four survivors ran headlong into the tombstones. They cut toward the church, firing back at their pursuers, several of which caught bullets and went down. However, the others began to weave throughout the tombstones, causing the shots to go wide.

Bill cursed and slung his sniper rifle over his back in favour of his M1911, the far better option for a fight of this nature. He raised his pistol arm to fire a shot at a dark figure, only to feel himself tackled from the side. He crashed to the dirt, struggling desperately with his attacker. With one swift movement, he drew his knife and slashed the man on top of him, feeling blood spurt into his face. He snarled and climbed to his feet, stabbing the second figure bearing down on him through the heart.

Scattered pistol shots and shotgun blasts echoed throughout the cemetery, amid animalistic cries of pain and anger. Francis swung the butt of his shotgun, knocking an infected man to the ground. He stooped over him and then proceeded to bring the butt of his gun down repeatedly, unceremoniously clubbing the man to death. The brief skirmish was over quickly, and the graveyard fell silent once more. It was now the host to several new bodies.

Zoey shivered. "Let's get the hell out of here." She ran toward the church, excited at the prospect of being rescued at last.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in a small room inside the church, a man trembled uncontrollably, almost dropping the marker in his hand. He had let <em>her<em> in, shown her great kindness. And how had he been repaid? He looked down at the bite mark on his hand and whimpered softly.

That was what you get for considering the safety of others before your own. If you wanted to survive this apocalypse, you had to play it safe. Safe, and not sorry. Well, now he was looking out for himself! He had to be safe! And never sorry!

He had no idea how long he had been writing on the wall in front of him, but before he realised it, the entire surface was covered in his righteous message.

_**BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.  
>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.<br>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.  
>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.<br>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.  
>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.<br>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.  
>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.<br>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.  
>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.<br>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.  
>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.<br>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.  
>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.<br>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.  
>BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY…<strong>_

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Thank you all for the fantastic support and kind words so far. I'm having a blast writing this story, so I guess everyone wins!

* * *

><p>FEEDBACK:<p>

RxSniper007:

C: it's like reading a book from the game itself, i feel if valve wanted to make a movie like the resident evil game, Has a 3d movie. I think if l4d was a animated movie, it would be a SUCCESS :) your story could be a great script in a l4d movie.

A: First of all, thanks, it's always nice to hear positive comments.

Secondly, I have no idea what Valve is DOING by not making a full-length animated movie (like the intro movie for the game). It could be a HUGE success, especially with all the crap that's making it to the big screens lately. And aside from the rare one here and there, there hasn't been a good zombie movie in years either. [/end rant]

Thirdly, thank you, I'm flattered that you think my story would make a good movie script. There are all sorts of L4D fan-made films and the like all over the internet, and it's quite amazing what people can do.

If anyone DOES have that sort of skill, wants to make a L4D movie, and needs a script-writer, let me know. I could definitely get on board with that.

LynxbyLynx:

C: everyone has been bitten except for zoey...I'd imagine shed be immune...but whose to say you don't get a little sick...like...a bug I guess?... +shrugs+ it's likely right? But then again...she might not be immune...and you'd be accused of being sexist... lol... not having her bit could lead to the same thing of 'oh no. All the boys are protecting the weak little female'. At least you've allowed her character to be built up so she's not completely dependant on the others

A: Heh, believe me, I'm anything but sexist. Zoey is my favourite character.


	31. Chapter 30: The Church: Part II

**Chapter 30: The Church: Part II**

* * *

><p>The four survivors cautiously entered the church, guns held out in front of them. The interior of the building was illuminated by several mobile electric light units, which cast shadows all over the room. Zoey looked to the west, past the rows of wooden pews toward the alter to see a large, gaping hole in the wall where a large stained-glass window used to be. The high roof of the church, criss-crossed by various wooden rafters, was obscured in darkness.<p>

"Sweet!" Louis said, picking up a forgotten M-16 that was lying across one of the pews.

"Lucky bastard," Francis grumbled. "Trade you my shotgun and pistol for it?"

"Hell no!" he shot back.

They turned their heads sharply toward some incomprehensible babbling that drifted from nearby, raising their weapons. The sound was coming from behind a familiar-looking red door in the back wall of the church, next to a set of stairs that presumably led up to the bell tower.

"It's a safe-house!" Zoey exclaimed.

"And it sounds like there's someone already inside," Bill said, walking up to the door. "Hello?" he called through the barred window. "Is anyone in there?" He saw a dark shadow shuffling around the room, muttering to itself incoherently.

"Hello there!" Louis called out, coming up to the door with the others. "Can you let us in?"

The cowering figure in the room finally looked up at them. "I... I'm not letting you in until I know you're human."

"We're as human as they come, son," Bill replied. "I promise."

"I d-d-don't believe you..." the man stammered. "The last one I let in... I can't believe she _bit_ me. I should never have let her in... But it's been an hour. I must be immune... Better safe than sorry... Better safe than sorry... Better safe than sorry..."

Bill cast a sidelong look at the others. "This guy is nuttier than candy-bar shit." He turned back to address the nut inside the safe-room. "Son, we're immune, tired, and there's Infected in the woods. Now cut the shit and let us in!"

"You just want to make me like you!" the man blabbed. "I can smell it in your blood. It-It's not going to happen! This is _my_ church, and I have _earned_ my salvation!"

"I don't believe this."

"What a dick..." Zoey looked angrily through the window bars. "Hey, jerk-ass, you're not gonna just open the door? Really?!"

Francis stepped forward. "Let me handle this," he said to the others. He cleared his throat. "We're cops! Open up!"

However, the man on the other side of the door was not fooled. "You're not a cop. You don't sound like a cop. I'm not opening this door!"

"Have a heart, we got a helpless old man with us!" he persisted.

"Hey!" Bill shot him a withering look. The war veteran turned back to the window, his finger tensing on the pistol grip of his rifle. "Son, if any of us get hurt out here, you WILL regret it."

When there was no reply, Francis raised his fist and banged on the door.

"Who is it?" the man called out in a sing-song voice.

The biker's patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Well, let's see. I'm Francis, that's Grandpa Bill, _and there's Infected out here! Open the damn door!_"

"Sorry!" the unhinged man laughed. "I can't come out and play right now! But if you come back later after I finish my homework..."

"That's it..." Francis lowered the shotgun, strode forward and drew his M1911, pointing the pistol through the small window bars at the cowering figure. "Open the door or I paint the walls with your brains."

"Francis!" Zoey scolded. "Forget this guy! Let's just go!"

However, the damage was done.

"NOBODY GETS A FREE RIDE!" the man yelled, ducking into a side room. Several moments later, the church bell rang thunderously from high above.

_DING DONG. DING DONG._

Louis looked up in shock. "What the hell is that?!"

"Ding dong! Ding dong!" the crazed man's voice practically screamed from inside the safe-room. "Dinner is served."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Bill growled furiously. "I'm gonna tear that bell down and shove it up your ass."

Louis started throwing himself against the steel door in sheer desperation. "Mister, if one of us gets killed out here, I'm gonna shoot my way in there and beat you to death with my gun!" He stopped short and looked at the rest of his group fearfully as a din of ravenous growls and howling rose from the woods, intermingling with the thunderous ringing of the church bell.

"Oh, god..." Zoey whispered in horror.

"We have to get out of here, now!" he cried.

"We won't get far," Bill said sternly. "Every infected bastard out there knows our exact location. We have to stay here and hold them off." He motioned to the two doors to the outside. "Barricade the entrances. Watch the windows, too." He started to make his way up the staircase.

"Where are _you_ going?" Louis asked.

The older man motioned to his sniper rifle. "I'm going up to the bell tower to pick off as many as I can before they reach the church." He gave them all an affectionate nod. "Look out for each other."

With that, he turned and ran up the stairs while the others began pushing wooden benches, tables, chairs, and anything else they could find in front of the doors.

"If we live through this, I'm gonna fuckin' KILL that guy!" Francis growled.

* * *

><p>The sound of the ringing church bell could still be heard when Bill came out at the top of the bell tower, cursing every step on the stairs he had to run up. He wasted no time, immediately setting the sniper rifle down on the stone ledge and bringing his eye to the scope. He looked down into the yard to see several Common Infected already sprinting toward the church at breakneck speed.<p>

_BANG!_

The sharp crack of the sniper rifle echoed in the night. A flash of red burst into the air as an infected man's head jerked violently back, and he flipped over, dead. The sniper rifle fired off another shot. And another. And another.

"Goddamn it…" Bill muttered. "There are _too many_..."

* * *

><p>Zoey's body tensed at the sound of the sniper rifle going off upstairs. "Get ready," she warned, raising her shotgun.<p>

The pounding on the church doors began soon after. Zoey, Louis and Francis backed away from them warily. A loud crack of breaking wood could be heard, and holes began to appear in the doors as the Infected outside the church smashed their way through. The survivors immediately opened fire, shooting through the holes and blasting the Infected away from the door.

"Go watch the other door!" Francis yelled, looking to his right when he heard another splintering crack. "I got this one!"

Zoey and Louis ran down the length of the church to the other door to see a considerably-sized hole already being smashed through it. Louis levelled his newly-acquired M-16 through the hole and fired off a short burst, killing the offending attackers outside. Blood splattered all over the door.

"If Bill is doing a decent job up top, I'd hate to think of how many assholes we'd have banging at the door right now," he commented.

A shrill and horrible scream echoed throughout the church. The others looked in alarm toward the safe-room door and realised that the scream had come from the bastard who had brought all of this down on them.

"What's wrong with him?" Zoey asked, to which Louis shrugged.

"Hey, shut up in there, asshole!" Francis roared.

"Window!" Zoey abruptly yelled.

Louis swung the assault rifle to his right to see several Common Infected climbing in through the shattered main window above the alter. He mowed them down as they appeared, sending bodies tumbling to the floor of the church with sickening crunches.

Meanwhile, Francis and Zoey fired their shotguns through the holes in their corresponding doors as more and more Infected attempted to force their way in. Two more appeared at her door, and she pulled the trigger. A loud _CLICK_ informed her that she was out of ammunition.

"Shit!" she cursed, tossing the shotgun away and drawing her pistol from the holster at her hip.

The two attackers smashed through the door, completely ripping it off its hinges, and began to attack the hastily-assembled barricade in their way. She put a bullet in each of their foreheads and they collapsed.

"I need some help over here!" Francis called from the other door to their left.

Zoey looked at Louis, who nodded, and then she ran back down the length of the church to help out the biker, while the former business man stayed back to cover the door and window. Halfway down the church, she was not prepared for when a loud crash came from high above her. She looked up to see that another one of the windows had smashed, and several bodies were tumbling down from above. She screamed in horror and threw herself out of the way of the showering glass. A number of Infected tumbled to the floor where she had been standing only seconds ago. Some of them never got back up. Three did, however, and though they were covered in hideous injuries, that did not slow them down. With bloodthirsty cries, they threw themselves at Zoey.

She fired her pistol wildly, taking down two of them in a flash of light. The third one managed to fling its arms out, knocking her off her feet and into the pews. She cried out in pain, and wrestled desperately with the attacker. She managed to free her pistol aim, levelled it with one of the creature's eyes and fired, blowing out the back of its head in a foul explosion of blood.

Francis' shotgun boomed as he killed several more Infected in the midst of attacking his barricade. Automatic gunfire clattered from further down the church as Louis' M-16 went off in a long burst. However, another most-unexpected sound drifted out from behind the safe-room door. It was a loud and raspy cough, wet and sickly, and it did not sound human.

"What the hell..." Francis muttered.

Zoey presently came to his side, panting. "A little help!" she cried, firing her pistol at another group of bloodthirsty people right outside the door.

The combined fire from the four survivors gradually stemmed the flow of Common Infected assaulting the church, and the sound of gunfire finally ceased. Up in his perch in the bell tower, Bill wiped his brow with a sleeve and sighed.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe we just fought them all off!" Louis exclaimed from down the church.<p>

Zoey shakily reloaded her pistol, just in case. "I can't believe that we're still alive."

"Yeah, well I know one guy who isn't going to be for much longer," Francis growled angrily, cocking his shotgun and turning toward the safe-room door. "Hey, asshole – "

"Francis!" she cried in protest. "Don't – "

However, she too fell silent and they both stared at the safe-room in shock. The door stood wide open. The man inside was nowhere to be seen.


	32. Chapter 31: Smoker

**Chapter 31: Smoker**

* * *

><p>Zoey and Francis aimed their guns into the doorway of the safe-house cautiously. Where the hell had the guy inside gone? The biker slowly advanced on the door while Zoey covered him. She was not prepared for when she felt the horribly familiar sensation of something long, slimy and wet wrapping itself around her body.<p>

"HELP!" she cried out.

The others looked in shock to see a long, pink tentacle snaking down from the wooden rafters high above, winding itself around her. Francis squeezed the trigger and a flame exploded from the barrel of his shotgun, the pellets piercing the long appendage above Zoey's head. An inhuman squeal of pain echoed above them, and Louis aimed his M-16 upward.

The light revealed a hideous mutation. A tall, gangly figure stood on a rafter high above them, its upper body hunched over to one side. Its entire skin was a sickly green colour, and large boils covered its hands, and the entire right side of its face. However, the most distinct feature of the creature was its unbelievably long tongue, which draped down all the way down from its mouth and around Zoey.

"Holy shit!" Louis cried, firing a burst up at the figure.

A bullet hit it in the shoulder, causing a spray of dark smoke to erupt from its body with a hiss. With a loud slurping noise, it retracted its tongue back into its mouth and leapt away into the shadowy roof cavity. The force of the unravelling caused Zoey to spin all the way around several times, before finally toppling to the floor.

Francis ran over to help her up. "You alright?"

She jerkily nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"What the hell is that thing?" Louis hissed, running over and taking cover next to them in the pews. Hacking coughs echoed throughout the church as the creature moved again.

"I don't know, but we've come across something like it before, back at the floodgates," she murmured, gripping her pistol tightly. "_Ugh!_" she said in a moment of realisation. "It dragged me away with its _tongue!_ That's _disgusting!_"

"How do you know it's not the same one from the drains?" Francis asked, aiming his shotgun carefully upward. However, the roof arch was too dark to be able to see where the monster had disappeared to.

Zoey motioned toward the open door of the safe-house. "What do _you_ think happened to the church guy?"

"Wait, do you mean to tell me that he changed into _that_ thing?" Louis exclaimed.

"Well, he _did_ say he'd been bitten."

"But what _is_ it?"

"An ugly, green motherfucker who we're going to kill," Francis growled.

A loud, raspy cough echoed throughout the rafters high above them. Louis angled his flashlight carefully upward, but the "ugly motherfucker" was staying just out of sight.

"At least it's not a mutant octopus," he murmured jokingly, although the situation hardly called for it. "It gave off some smoke when I shot at it. Some sort of defence mechanism, I guess," he said observantly. "And it sounds like it has smoker's cough – on a _good_ day. It's almost like it's _begging_ us to call it a _Smoker!_"

"Let's name it _after_ we kill it!" Zoey hissed.

"There it is!" Francis yelled, aiming his shotgun upward.

The others looked up to see the creature perched on a wooden rafter right above them. However, before anyone could shoot, its mouth shot open in a wide and horrible expression, revealing a gaping dark hole behind its maw. Its mouth was opened so wide, it looked as though it had dislocated its jaw. With a loud hiss, a dark green cloud of smoke spewed out, enveloping the three survivors. They coughed and wheezed as they inhaled the noxious gases, their vision impaired.

Francis suddenly hollered in distress. "Help! It's got me!"

Zoey charged through the gas toward her friend's voice. She burst out of the cloud of smoke to see Francis being dragged away along the floor by the tongue, which was wrapped around his left ankle.

"Hang on!" she yelled.

Muzzle flashes lit up the interior of the church as she fired her pistol at the fleeting shadow of the so-called "Smoker" in the roof arch. One of her bullets caught it in the leg and it screeched, releasing its grip on Francis as it retracted its tongue.

"I'll tell you what, I _really_ hate this guy," the burly biker growled as he picked himself up off the floor.

* * *

><p>Bill heard sustained gunshots below him, but he assumed that the others were simply mopping up any Infected that had managed to break into the church. He viewed the surrounding area through the scope of the sniper rifle, and finally gave off a sigh, satisfied that no more were coming to attack the building.<p>

A series of pistol shots rang out below him.

"What on earth are they shooting at...?"

* * *

><p>Louis cried out, firing his M-16 at flashes of movement in the roof cavity. However, the Smoker was using the darkness to its advantage, staying just out of sight.<p>

"Fighting this guy is like shooting at a damn shadow!"

With a sickening _THWACK_, the long tongue shot out of the darkness above and wrapped itself around his waist. With incredible strength, it hurled him across the room, sending him crashing into the pews.

"Louis!" Zoey cried out.

She and Francis ran over to help him, but the Smoker lashed out its tongue again in an attempt to intercept the both of them. Zoey threw herself over the obstacle, but Francis was painfully knocked over onto his back. He gasped in pain, while the Smoker retracted its tongue with awe-dropping speed.

"Louis, are you okay?" the former college girl called, coming to his side. However, he had been knocked unconscious from the fall.

A yell of distress came from behind. "Zoey! Help – _augh!_"

She whirled to see that the Smoker had wrapped its tongue in a noose around Francis' neck, and was lifting him into the air, choking him. She fired desperately at the monster, but her pistol was ineffective at this range.

"I'm just borrowing this, Louis," she said, picking up the assault rifle.

She aimed at the Smoker, but her line of fire was obscured by a rafter. She cursed and realigned her aim at the tongue above Francis' head. The church exploded with gunfire as she peppered it with hot lead. The Smoker screeched in anger and used its tongue to hurl Francis at her. He crashed into her and they both tumbled to the ground.

"Ow!" she cried out. "Get the hell off! You're crushing me!"

Francis slowly rolled over. "Give me a sec..."

"Dude, you're like twice my size! Get up!"

"What the hell's goin' on down here?" a gruff voice rang out from across the church.

"Bill, look out!" Zoey yelled. "There's a – "

Before she could finish her sentence, Bill felt a painful slap across his face, sending him sliding across the floor on his side and into a wall.

"What the hell was that?" he cried in shock.

"You just got bitch-slapped by a giant tongue," Francis said, smirking.

"A giant _what?_" Bill felt something tighten around his ankles. He looked down in shock and saw a long, rubbery appendage wrapped around his legs, seconds before he was being dragged along the floor. "Argh! Get this thing off me!" he yelled.

Zoey took up Louis' assault rifle again and aimed up into the dark roof arch. "Francis, throw some more light up there," she ordered. "Your shotgun's useless at this range. I'll take the shot."

Together, they both aimed their lights, tracing the tongue back to its source.

"There!" she shouted, firing off a burst.

The muzzle flashes illuminated the gangly figure, which quickly turned toward the source of gunfire. It released its grip on Bill to retract its tongue and, with frightening speed, leap into the shadows again. This time, it bounded along the wooden rafters, landing directly above them, and spewed forth another blinding cloud of smoke. Francis put a hand to his mouth, coughing profusely. He heard a loud _THUD_ directly to his right, and swung his shotgun around –

A clawed arm slashed him across the shoulder, and then backhanded him in the face, sending him crashing into a wooden pew behind him. Zoey swung her rifle around nervously, but did not shoot for fear of hitting Francis. All she could see in every direction was the dark, billowing gas.

Suddenly, a hideous face appeared through the smoke, a few inches from hers. It opened its mouth in a shrill scream. Past its gnarled fangs, Zoey could see the phlegm rattling around in its throat.

She raised the rifle – only to have it knocked from her hands, and then smacked across the face in the backswing of the same disarming blow. She stumbled and fell backward, but felt her fall arrested. She realised that the Smoker's tongue had wrapped itself around her chest, and was slowly tightening. She gasped desperately for breath.

A gunshot rang out, followed by a roar of pain. The tongue released her and she fell painfully back to the floor. She was vaguely aware that the smoke cloud had dissipated slightly, allowing Bill to line up his sniper rifle with the back of the creature's head. However, the Smoker's instincts had saved it, moving its head out of the way and letting its shoulder take the bullet instead. It turned to face Bill.

"Come on over here and gimme a big kiss, you limp-dick, ugly-ass son of a bitch," the old man growled.

The Smoker let out another ear-splitting scream and began to leap across the pews toward its prey. The veteran cast aside the sniper rifle in favour of his pistol. However, whenever he fired a shot at the Smoker, it dove to the ground to take cover behind the wooden pews. They continued their standoff in this manner for a few moments, with the infected creature gradually closing the distance.

In a panicked moment, Bill heard a loud slurping noise and glanced down to see the long tongue whip out from under the pews and side-sweep his legs, sending him crashing to the floor. He looked up to see the Smoker leap up onto the back of the wooden bench right above him and bear its teeth in a savage hiss.

An abrupt and heavy staccato of gunfire erupted throughout the church. Several rounds pierced the creature's head and torso, and Zoey lowered the smoking M-16 in satisfaction. The Smoker gave off a final screech of pain, before its entire body imploded. An obscene cloud of dark green smoke billowed out from the corpse, enveloping the entire room.

Bill, Zoey and Francis all coughed and spluttered for a few minutes, and the oppressive gas was enough to wake Louis with a start.

"Everyone alright?" Bill called through the fog. "Make your way over to my voice."

After a while, everyone was reunited, and the gas was beginning to dissipate through the broken windows of the church.

Francis gave a savage kick to the crumpled remains of the Smoker angrily. "Stupid thing."

"Show some respect for the dead, Francis," Bill said sharply. He looked over at Zoey. "Thanks for savin' my ass yet again. That's twice in one night. I reckon I owe you a beer."

Zoey chuckled. "Looking forward to it."

"Don't mean to be party-pooper, but we should get inside the safe-room before we get attacked by something else," Louis cut in.

"Good idea."

The survivors recovered their various weapons and then made their way across the church to the safe-room that they had fought so hard to gain access to.

"After what we went through to get in here, this place had better have some beer," Francis grumbled, closing the red metal door and lowering the bar into place.

Zoey gingerly stepped past the dead body of a young woman lying slumped against one wall, a single bullet-hole in her forehead. She grimaced, and then turned to Louis worriedly. "How's your head?"

"I'm okay," he replied, rubbing a nasty-looking bump. "It's just a bruise."

"Don't pick at it." Bill said gruffly, sitting him down on a wooden stool near the wall. "Do you feel like you're going to vomit?"

Louis shook his head.

"Follow my finger," Bill said, holding up an index finger and moving it back and forth past his eyes. When he told as he was told, the war veteran nodded in satisfaction. "I'm no expert son, but I think you're gonna be okay. It's just a nasty bump on the head."

"No beer," Francis growled angrily from the back of the room. "But there are some bottles of water." He threw a small plastic bottle over to everyone. "Bottoms up."

Zoey looked around the room and saw that it was quite empty, with the stool and a bare wooden table being the only furniture. Aside from the dead body, the only real noteworthy feature of the room was an insane message covering an entire wall.

_**BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY.**_

Bill followed her gaze and shook his head. "Like I said, nuttier than candy-bar shit." He lay down on the floor, propping up his jacket as a pillow. "Alright Francis, it's your turn for the first watch. Everyone else, get some sleep. We'll move out at first light."

The man in question picked up his shotgun and walked over to the wall near the door to get into a comfortable position for his watch, grumbling all the way.

"What about food?" Louis asked.

"We're out," came Bill's simple reply.

The young man's face fell, almost in unison with a loud rumble from his stomach. However, he was elated to see Zoey proffer a small, crumpled bag of peanut M&M's. He greedily grabbed a handful and tossed them in his mouth.

"You, girl, are a lifesaver. I owe you one."

She smiled in response and turned to offer them to the others.


	33. Chapter 32: The Town

**Chapter 32: The Town**

* * *

><p>"Well, here we are. The 'historic' town of Riverside," Francis said sullenly. He was in a bad mood as usual.<p>

_Probably because Bill woke us all up too early,_ Louis thought, shaking his head.

The four survivors made their way into the dreary town of Riverside and found themselves amid a scene of devastation. A mixture of abandoned and wrecked cars was scattered throughout the streets, among piles of rubble and dead bodies. Some were riddled with bullet-holes, while others had been clawed to death. The stench was terrible.

"You know, for once, it'd be nice to visit a city _without_ dead bodies everywhere," Louis deadpanned, crinkling his nose.

"Get used to it," Bill said crisply as he lit up a cigarette. As he exhaled, he noticed that there were a number of APCs (armoured personnel carriers, he clarified for the others) and various other military trucks amid the civilian vehicles. "Looks like the army _was_ here at some point."

"So where are they now?" Francis pointed out.

"Maybe they're further inside the town." The war veteran flicked the cigarette to the road and lifted his sniper rifle. "Only one way to find out."

With that, the team made its way carefully through the silent streets. They cautiously kept watch for any signs of danger, but the area was dead quiet. The town was disturbingly empty; there was not a living soul in sight.

"Where the hell _is_ everyone?" Zoey muttered.

"If I had to guess, I'd say that most of the infected ones came to the party at the church last night," Bill grunted. "That nutter sure invited a lot of 'em."

"But where is the _army_?"

Bill did not respond. From his experience, if there were not any soldiers out on patrol in the open, then the area was not secure. There could be hostiles watching them right now. He maintained a vigilant grip on his rifle.

"The main street should be around the corner," Zoey said after a while, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group. "Hopefully there's a – " Her words died in her throat as they came to the centre of Riverside.

The scene of destruction was heart-rending. Countless bodies, many of them in military fatigues, were strewn all over the street, expressions of pain and desperation frozen on the ones that still had faces. Craters, pot-holes and scorch marks attested to the abundance of explosives that had been deployed. In the middle of the street stood some sort of command centre, made up of several vehicles, all reduced to burnt-out shells. The command centre was completely encircled by a ring of corpses, military and infected alike. It was clear that the army made a stand here, but had failed to hold the line.

Louis hoped that some of the poor bastards had been able to fall back and escape from the town with their lives.

Zoey gazed over the devastating scene of the failed stand against the Infected and sighed heavily. "I guess Riverside couldn't hold out. The Infected must have come in through the same sewers that we used."

Bill grunted, as though recalling a bad memory. "Just like Charlie. Little bastards had a whole damn network of tunnels throughout the countryside to pop up right under our feet."

"_Now_ what do we do?"

The older man was looking northward. "We're gonna die if we stay in Riverside. If we get to the river, maybe we can find a boat."

"Sounds good to me," Louis replied, glad to have a plan again. "Let's do it."

"Hold yer horses, son," Bill said, sitting down atop a small pile of rubble. "We need to stock up on supplies first. We're completely out of food and running low on ammunition. We should take the opportunity here to scavenge what we can."

* * *

><p>Zoey and Francis walked down a grocery store aisle, with Francis covering the front with his shotgun. Zoey trailed along behind him, cramming non-perishable food items into every available orifice in her backpack. The store was trashed, but there were still some discarded food articles that had been left behind.<p>

"This was a bad idea," she said presently.

Francis said nothing and continued to walk ahead. She struggled to keep up with him.

"We shouldn't split up like this," she continued. "What happens if Bill and Louis run into another Witch? Or a Hunter?"

"What happens if _we_ do?" the biker said over his shoulder.

"Exactly!" Zoey exclaimed. "Bill's idea to try and find a radio outside was _stupid!_ The army's not in Riverside anymore. We all need to stick together."

Francis reached into the shelf next to him and grabbed a chocolate bar. He tore it open and started eating without answering.

"I mean, I know we're on the clock here, but I still think that we can afford to take a _little_ extra time to watch each other's backs," Zoey continued.

They passed a cooler on the right, and Francis began to prod cuts of steak aside in an attempt to find a piece of unspoiled meat.

"Come on, Francis," the college girl persisted. "Don't turn this into a monologue."

"I didn't make it past high school, Zoey," he said over his shoulder. "Usin' big college words don't mean shit to me."

"Francis," she said sternly.

He paused to look at her for a moment, gave a dismissive sigh, and then turned his attention back to the meats. He suddenly felt something hard hit him on the back of the head.

"Ow!" he yelped, turning back to see Zoey grabbing yet another chocolate bar projectile from the shelf next to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was cutting into snack time!" she said, fuming. "And I also didn't realise that me caring about the other people in our group was cramping your, oh so cool 'lone wolf' style!" She hurled the second chocolate bar at his face in frustration.

Francis put up his hands defensively "Hey," he said warningly.

"Just know that you're not impressing anyone with your 'don't give a shit' attitude. There are no dumb, blonde bimbos around here!"

_"Hey!"_ he snapped sharply. The force of his tone brooked no argument, and Zoey fell silent, staring up at him with angry eyes. "I ain't tryin' to impress anyone. I'm just being me. If you don't like what you see, maybe you should find someone else to cover your ass-cheeks."

"Very funny," she shot back. "None of us would have made it this far without each other. I think that warrants a little respect, don't you?"

"Whatever," he replied, turning back toward the cooler. He heard a rustle of moment behind him and instinctively ducked his head, just in time to see a granola bar go flying overhead. "_Goddamn it!_ Knock that shit off!"

"We're not done."

The biker's lips were pressed into a tight line as he ran a hand over his head, obviously trying to suppress some less-than-gentlemanly behaviour. "Fine," he finally sighed, leaning back against the cooler and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm just kinda sick of goin' along with these plans that never pan out."

"And I'm getting real sick and tired of you doing nothing but complaining," Zoey shot back indignantly. "We'd be happy to hear your suggestions. But I'm sorry, at least seventy-five percent of the people in this group _don't_ want to be fighting for the rest of our lives! We need to find an evac centre, before there are none left."

"Like Riverside, huh?" he snarled. "What makes you think anywhere else is gonna be any different, _huh?_"

She was silent for a moment, her eyes downcast. "I guess... I just want to believe that there are still other survivors out there," she murmured.

She moved off down the aisle and began to absent-mindedly pick more items off the shelves. Francis sighed and followed her. They walked in silence for a while.

"Listen," he began.

"Oh, peanut butter. Can't forget that..." Zoey said a monotone.

"I'm sure there are other people out there," Francis continued. "Humans are tough bastards. We'll find a way to pull through."

She looked at him, her green eyes had softening as she calmed down from their argument. She turned her attention back to her food scavenging. "Let's see… Peanut butter for me… Kit-Kats for Louis… What do you think we should get for Bill?"

"He was in the army, right?" Francis snorted, swiping an armful of cans from the shelf into his backpack. "There."

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Thanks be to everyone for the kind comments so far.

I hope the chapters have been up to snuff, please take the time to leave a review, all that good stuff.

* * *

><p>FEEDBACK:<p>

Jason Valdor:

C: Does Zombieland not count as a good zombie movie?

A: My bad, I forgot what year Zombieland was made ^_^

He who is awesome:

C: So is this finally gonna have OCs again or what?

A: In a way. Later chapters are going to feature… not really OCs, but already-established characters in the L4D universe, in a big way. And they will be much more fleshed out.


	34. Chapter 33: The Park

**Chapter 33: The Park**

* * *

><p>Bill was taken aback when he saw Zoey and Francis emerging from the supermarket, the latter carrying a six-pack of beer under his arm. "Are you crazy?"<p>

The biker dumped the alcohol on the ground and opened a bottle, taking a swig with a grimace. "Mmm, nothin' like warm beer... But I guess it's better than nothin'."

"Did you hear me, son?" Bill repeated. "I've got enough problems, without having to worry about whether some drunken idjit's gonna blow a second hole in my ass!"

"Relax, Bill! It's just a beer! Besides, I figured we could use them to make more Molotovs."

"...Hm, that's actually not a bad idea," he mused. His look of thoughtfulness quickly turned to a scowl when the other man leaned back against a car, shooting him a smug look. "Alright, smartass. Since it was your idea, _you_ can make 'em."

Francis fumbled and nearly dropped the bottle in his hand when the canteen of petrol was thrown over to him. "Alright, but I'm havin' a few first."

The old man rolled his eyes and walked over to where the others were sitting cross-legged on the ground, an impressive spread of granola bars, canned fruits and vegetables set out before them. Louis was eagerly scooping handfuls of Milo cereal straight from the box. Bill accepted the tinned tomatoes that Zoey offered to him and prised the can open with his knife.

"Did you have any luck finding a radio?" she asked between mouthfuls of a granola bar.

He shook his head. "'Fraid not, kid. They're all either busted, or gone. I figure the army must've taken the good ones with them when they pulled out of town. By the way, I found this in the back of an APC." He produced a battered-looking M-16 and handed it down to her. "Merry Christmas."

She shoved her pistol back into the holster at her hip and lowered the assault rifle into her lap. "Aw, gee, thanks!" She shot him a playful look. "But I didn't get you anything!"

"Consider it payback for saving my life last night."

"Twice," she shot back teasingly. "I'm still gonna hold you to that beer."

Bill gestured down to the six-pack at Francis' feet. "Help yourself."

Zoey made a disgusted face. "He can have them."

"I think I'll have one," Louis piped up suddenly. "It's been a while since I've had a drink. Hey, Francis! Throw me a beer!"

"Fuck off."

* * *

><p>After the trek through the sewers the previous day, the survivors took the time to have a wary picnic in the sun, and then took to scavenging what ammunition and supplies they could from the street. When it came to making forays into nearby shops, they went in pairs, covering each other. Fortunately, there were very few Common Infected lurking indoors, and they taken care of quite easily.<p>

However, the situation made Louis feel uneasy. If most of the army in the town had been wiped out, there must have been a _lot_ of Infected. So where were they all?

Zoey and Francis' backpacks were soon relatively laden with dry food. In addition, everyone's holsters were bristling with ammunition for their various weapons, and a Molotov hung from each, courtesy of Francis' alcoholism.

"Alright, ladies," Bill said aloud, slinging the sniper rifle across his back. "Riverside was a bust. Let's get to the river and get the hell outta here."

With that, the group set off again, making their way north through the town. A sombre silence hung over them as the dreary sunlight filtered through the pall of clouds overhead. On a pleasant Sunday afternoon, a walk through Riverside would have taken little more than an hour. In the middle of the apocalypse, it took well over three.

Though there were few Common Infected lurking in alleyways, behind dumpsters, and in shadowy doorways, their very presence was menacing. The four survivors advanced slowly and carefully, covering each other. Bill or Francis killed any offenders with their knives, and a firearm was not discharged unless absolutely necessary. The quiet was overpowering, and Zoey personally could not wait to get out of this town. She would have chuckled with the irony of it being her idea to come to Riverside in the first place, but could not bring herself to do so.

"It ain't so bad. At least I got a beer out of this trip," Francis said to her quietly as they walked past the loading docks behind a row of industrial buildings, causing her to roll her eyes.

The sky darkened quickly as evening approached, casting an ominous atmosphere over the area. Luckily (or not) by that time, they had reached the edge of the town and stood at the entrance to a dirt trail running between two dirt ridges cropped by trees, most of them without leaves. A wooden sign next to a low wooden fence proclaimed: RIVERSIDE PARK. It was impossible to see very far, courtesy of the fog that hung over the area

"Well, this looks… cheerful," Louis muttered sarcastically.

"We can get to the river through the park," Zoey pointed out.

"Let's do it," Francis said. "I'm sick of this town."

The team carefully made their way along the trail, their flashlights leading the way. For a while, nothing attacked them, but everyone became increasingly unnerved as they moved up the hill. As they made their way further and further into the park, frightful sounds could be heard – low snarls, sorrowful moaning, heavy breathing. Sometimes far off, sometimes disturbingly close.

A startlingly loud shriek caused Zoey to jump in fright. She looked toward the sound to see a gaunt, pale woman charging out of the trees. Francis raised his shotgun, only for Bill to push it back down. The infected woman leapt into the air with a strangled cry, only to be stabbed through the throat. Bill kicked the body to the ground and cleaned the blood off his knife before shoving it back into his holster.

"I don't like this, man," Louis said quietly. "They can come at us from anywhere – "

He fell silent when the older man shot him a glare. "We've gone through the options. This is the one we picked. It's too late to turn back now. I'm going to see it to the bitter end, and you're _all_ comin' with me."

The grim certainty to his words seemed to rally everyone into the right mindset. They took extra care, covering all sides and making slow but steady progress. Whenever they came across Common Infected, they made sure to take them out as quietly as possible. After a slow and bitter progression through the darkness, Francis pointed toward lights in the distance.

"Over there. Maybe the army came through here when they retreated."

"It sure would explain why there are so many Infected in the park," Bill grunted in agreement.

At the top of the hill, the team came across a tall stone structure with a picnic table under the cover. On the table, they found several folders and documents, outlining the evacuation plan of Riverside, when it had actually been in effect.

"There's a boathouse where those floodlights are at the riverfront," Bill commented, poring over the maps by torchlight while the others kept watch. "According to these notes, the military used it as a supply base. They kept all sorts of stuff there – petrol, food, radios."

"Maybe they left some stuff there," Louis said hopefully.

Zoey peered over Bill's shoulder and could not help but notice the isolation of the boathouse. _Oh, nice. A cabin in the middle of nowhere. I know how this movie ends…_

As they made off toward the lights that they now knew marked the location of the river, the dark and twisted ambience of growls, snarls and moans echoed throughout the trees. The Infected were out there, and it sounded like there were a lot of them.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Holy geez, we're nearly at the grand finale. Are you as excited as I am? I hope so!

Thanks for reading. I greatly appreciate the reviews, they always make me smile. Please keep them coming.


	35. Chapter 34: The Boathouse

**Chapter 34: The Boathouse**

* * *

><p>"Look, it's the boathouse!" Louis commented when they reached the riverfront.<p>

Francis looked at the wharf and scowled. "Not much of a boathouse when there are no boats left. Now it's just… a house."

"Very insightful of you, Francis," Bill said sarcastically. He motioned the group into the ruined building. "Come on, let's check inside for supplies."

However, they made a much more exciting discovery – an intact radio was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, static issuing from its speaker.

"Hot damn!" Zoey exclaimed. "Do you think we might be able to contact the army with that?"

"The army ain't in Riverside anymore, kid," Bill replied.

Suddenly, the radio crackled as it broadcasted a message. _"If th… an… sur… vers... fire… sss respo…"_

The survivors looked at each other in excitement, and the war veteran strode forward to fiddle with the radio. He adjusted the dials until he finally matched the frequency with the broadcast.

"_If there are any survivors out there with firearms, please respond,_" the radio squawked.

"Survivors with firearms, huh?" Zoey commented.

The transmission repeated itself several more times, before Bill took up the microphone. "Hello, do you copy? Over."

The radio hissed with static for a moment, before there was a reply. _"We read you loud and clear, over."_

"I am transmitting from Riverside. We are at the riverbank, and there are four of us. We require immediate evac. Three of us are known to be immune to the virus. Over."

_"This is John Slater, transmitting from the _Saint Lidia II_. We are a small fishing vessel anchored off Riverside. Are you and your group armed? Over."_

Bill raised an eyebrow at the others quizzically. What a strange question. "Son, we just fought our way to this spot from Fairfield. We are well armed. I repeat, we are well armed."

_"Copy that,"_ the radio squawked. _"We are anchored offshore near Riverside Lighthouse. We can pick you up from there. Over."_

"The lighthouse, huh?"

_"Activate the light when you arrive to signal us in once you get there. Do you copy?"_

Bill looked at the others, who all nodded in agreement. "We copy. We'll be there."

_"Over and out."_

He lifted his M-16 rifle and leaned back against the table. "Well, looks like we got orders for a little hike."

"Where is this lighthouse?" Louis inquired.

The old man spread a map of Riverside, which he had taken from the picnic shelter, out on the table while the others crowded around him. "We are here…" He said, pointing to a spot on the map north of the town. "And the lighthouse is… here. So we just have to follow this road southwest, and we'll come to it. Far as I can make out, it's roughly three miles away."

"You want us to walk for three miles in the dark through the woods?" Francis challenged.

"You got a better idea?"

He looked outside the window at the car-park. "As a matter of fact, I do."

* * *

><p>Francis walked over the single car sitting abandoned in the parking lot. It looked intact, and it hopefully had some fuel left. Just in case, Bill was currently searching the boathouse for any jerry cans that the army may have been left behind.<p>

"Do you think you can hotwire it?" Louis asked.

"Please," the biker snorted. "I've 'borrowed' plenty of cars in my time. This'll be a piece of cake."

With that, he took off his vest, wrapped it around his hand and then smashed the front window on the driver's side. A shrill alarm erupted into the air, shocking him, Louis and Zoey.

"Francis!" she cried in horror.

"Crap… I didn't think about the alarm…" he said sheepishly.

A primal snarl drifted from the woods nearby, followed by others. Soon, the entire night was filled with a terrifying chorus of howling and screaming.

"That sounds like a _lot_ of infected..." he groaned.

"Less talking, more hotwiring!" Zoey snapped.

* * *

><p>Bill climbed the stairs to the second floor of the boathouse, pistol held out in front of him, flashlight piercing the darkness. He paused on the top step and listened for noises. Silence. Sweeping his light across the room, he saw that there was nothing but junk lying around.<p>

Perhaps the only noteworthy thing in the entire room was a clothing rack, on which several dresses and coats hung. He snorted in derision when he noticed a cheap, brown suit hanging among the other articles of clothing. Who would actually wear one of those things? The old veteran crept across the room toward a dark, open doorway, but then he stopped.

_Am I hearing things? Or is there something breathing in here with me?_

Bill swung the light around the room again but nothing seemed out of place.

_Hang on… Wasn't there a brown suit hanging off that clothes rack a second ago…?_

He steadied his rifle, and then he heard some scuffling off to his left.

_Goddamn it._

He swung his light around to reveal the culprit – a large rat scurrying along the floor. The old man breathed a sigh of relief – and then he just about jumped a mile in the air. The loud, shrill screech of a car alarm wailed from outside.

"Francis, we make it outta here alive, I'mma wring your goddamn neck," Bill growled.

At that moment, a powerful arm wrapped itself around _his_ neck, catching him by total surprise. He cried out in shock and his pistol clattered uselessly to the ground. Bill struggled with his snarling attacker, but the infected man had him in a chokehold that was difficult break out of. He felt the attacker's head leaning forward, and then felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder seconds later. He screamed in pain.

* * *

><p>Gunfire clattered in the night air as Zoey and Louis' assault rifles unleashed a hail of hot lead into the Common Infected that emerged from the dark trees. So far, they were managing to hold them at bay, but more and more were coming.<p>

"Francis! I thought you knew how to hotwire a car!" Louis yelled as he reloaded.

"I _do!_" the biker snapped. "Just give me a goddamn minute!"

The deafening roar of the incoming horde grew even louder, and even seemed to emanate from the very ground.

"Louis, I do _not_ have a good feeling about this…" Zoey cried, firing off a short burst that took down several more Infected.

* * *

><p>Bill grunted in pain as he fought to throw the attacker off his back, but to no avail. Throwing his weight backward, he stumbled and then slammed his back against the wall as hard as he could. The infected man stopped biting at his shoulder momentarily to snarl in anger. The wiry combatant took advantage of the opportunity to reach both of his hands over his shoulder, grab the man's head and violently twist it sideways. He heard a satisfying <em>SNAP<em>, and his attacker slid off his back to the floor.

Bill wasted no more time, scooping his gun up off the floor and continuing his petrol scavenger hunt. That car alarm was broadcasting their exact coordinates to the Infected, and they needed to be out of here by the time the main horde arrived. He kicked open a door and found, to his satisfaction, several jerry-cans full of petrol stashed in the small storeroom.

* * *

><p>Gunfire rippled through the air as Zoey and Louis stood by the car, their assault rifles raised to their shoulders. More infected people were appearing from the trees without reprieve, and the situation was rapidly deteriorating. However, with a triumphant roar, the car engine came to life.<p>

Francis straightened up in the driver's seat and leaned on the window sill, a smug grin on his face. "Hey there. You crazy kids need a ride?"

"How are we for fuel?" Zoey asked frantically, swinging her M-16 around and gunning down a woman several metres from the car. Blood splattered across the windshield.

Francis casually flicked a switch, squirting a spray of wiper fluid onto the window and activating the windshield wipers. "Nearly empty, which I guess is why it was abandoned? But I'm sure gramps is bringin' us some more as we speak." He looked toward the boathouse to see Bill running out, hauling a jerry-can with him. "Well, speak of the devil…"

"Cover me!" the older man yelled as he ran around to the back of the car to transfer the petrol into the gas tank. Zoey and Louis took their place beside him, firing off shots at anything that moved. And there were a _lot_ of things moving.

"FUCK this!" the former office worker yelled, hurling his Molotov forward into the trees. Orange light flashed, along with squeals of pain as several Infected were set on fire.

"Done!" Bill yelled, dropping the can. "Let's haul ass!"

"Holy shit, here they come!" Francis exclaimed. _"Holy shit!"_

The other survivors all piled into the car, just in time to see the bulk of the crowd emerge from the trees. There were not enough bullets in the _world_ to cut down the mob charging for them. Several of them were on fire. All of them were gunning straight for the car.

"Go! _Go! Go!_" Zoey screamed.

Francis hit the accelerator, sending the tyres into a squeal of protest on the bitumen as the car fishtailed into movement. Several infected people were run over in the parking lot. One of them, however, managed to latch onto the car hood. He reared up and brought a hand down, punching his fist straight through the windshield. Shards of glass showered into the front of the car.

"_Shit!"_ Francis yelled.

The man raised his hand to strike again, but Bill was faster, whipping up his pistol and letting fly several bullets. They pierced the infected man's cranium, sending him flying off the car. The vehicle rumbled as it ran over his body a second later.

"They're catching up!" Zoey screamed, looking out the rear window to see the rest of the bloodthirsty horde approaching rapidly.

Francis gunned the motor and guided the car out of the parking lot of the boathouse. It peeled into the road and then took off, disappearing into the night.


	36. Chapter 35: The Lighthouse

**Chapter 35: The Lighthouse**

* * *

><p>"Christ, that was too close," Bill sighed from the front of the car, looking back to where the crowd of Infected had disappeared around a bend in the road. "If that's what the army was up against here, they never had a chance."<p>

"Yeah, well neither do we, unless we get far away from here," Francis remarked, keeping his eyes on the dark road ahead as he drove. "I say we keep driving and put as much distance between us and them as possible."

"Are you _crazy_, Francis?" Louis exclaimed from the backseat. "Those people in the boat are gonna come rescue us! We've gotta take it, man!"

There was a tense silence, through which only the roar of the engine could be heard. The biker was overworking it to the maximum. The sheer size of the huge horde had spooked him, and he wanted to get as far away as possible.

"The lighthouse is a couple more kilometres up the road," Bill finally said. "It'll take the Infected some time to reach us. We can use that time to set up a defensive perimeter."

Francis groaned. "I don't like where this is going…"

* * *

><p>The car skidded along the dark dirt road, flanked by withered trees. The road soon came up to chain-link fence, which Francis was about to drive through until Bill stopped him.<p>

"Wait! Before you go ploughin' through that fence, think about it! It'll be useful to leave it intact to protect the area."

Following his advice, the biker slowed the car to a stop and got out, leaving the engine still running and the headlights still on. The others followed his lead and ran up to the fence. The howls of the Infected could be heard in the distance.

"Help me over," Zoey said tersely, and was promptly given a boost over the fence by Bill and Louis.

The others quickly climbed over to re-join her on the other side, and then they were running up the dirt road into the remote area. As they ran, the bloodthirsty screams gradually grew louder and closer.

"They're closing in," Louis panted.

"We've got a fight on our hands," Bill replied solemnly, his steely eyes ahead.

As they ran up the trail, a dark structure in a clearing gradually came into view through the trees. It was a remote cliff-top lighthouse. The main tower itself was a fat structure, roughly two storeys tall, with the dark lamp perched on top. A squat house sat at the bottom of the tower. It was too dark to see the water beyond, but Zoey could hear the waves crashing against the rocks far below.

"Get to the lighthouse!" Bill barked. "We've gotta get that light turned on!"

"Aye' captain!" Francis called sarcastically.

They barrelled through the door of the house into a small, dark living room, with boarded-up windows and destroyed furniture. Bill made for the doorway leading to the base of the tower.

"Secure the house," he ordered. "There's no time for the buddy system. Stay sharp and don't get jumped." With that, he entered the doorway into a dark stairwell and ran up the winding metal staircase. "Goddamn horseshit stairs... Why am _I_ always climbing the damn stairs...?"

Below him, the others spread out through the house, guns up and lights on. Fortunately, a thorough sweep of the house revealed that there were no Infected lurking inside.

Above them, Bill reached the top of the lighthouse and fumbled with the switches in a mad attempt to activate the light. He had no idea about lighthouses, and so he pressed every button and flicked every switch he came across. Finally, with a blinding flash, the light came on, turning about in a full circle.

"Jesus!" he cried, shielding his eyes against the blinding light.

After taking a moment to blink the spots in his vision away, he noticed that a green and a red light had started blinking together in unison in the black water far below. The lights were slowly moving in toward the shore.

_That must be the _Saint Lidia II, he thought in satisfaction. _But how are we going to get down to them?_

Bill lifted his sniper rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope, surveying the cliff-top below him. He had to stay calm and find a way out of this mess. If he didn't, they were all dead. Suddenly, he saw it: a trail leading down the cliff toward the water. Perhaps it led down to a private dock for the lighthouse. Either way, it would have to do. He took one last look at the blinking lights of the boat coming in toward the shore, and then made his way back downstairs.

"Everyone alright?" he called out. He was relieved to find everyone huddled in the living room, checking their guns and pooling their remaining three Molotovs.

"We're fine," Louis replied. "Did you get the light working?"

Bill nodded. "I saw lights from the _Saint Lidia II_. Judging from its speed, I'd say it'll be pulling up to shore in about ten or fifteen minutes."

"Damn it," Francis snarled. "Can't we get off this cliff any faster?"

"Not unless you want to swim, son." The ex-military man lifted his sniper rifle. "None of you have experience handling one of these, so I'm going up top to the tower to pick them off from there." He motioned around the room. "You three need to defend the house and make sure they don't get in."

Zoey motioned to a couple of propane tanks lying near the door. "We found those lying at the bottom of the stairs. I figured they'd be useful."

He smiled grimly. "Very resourceful of you. Set them up outside in front of the house. Once the boat arrives, I'll come down, and then we'll leave through that window." He pointed across the room at a boarded-up opening on the river-facing side of the living room. "For god's sake, keep it clear."

Wasting no more time, he turned and disappeared back up the stairs, while Francis barricaded the door with all the furniture he could find. Louis and Zoey ran up to the front windows of the house and slid the muzzles of their rifles through the cracks between the covering planks.

They waited for a few more minutes in tense silence. The roars and howls that filled the air steadily grew louder, and the rattle of the chain-link fence could be heard in the distance as bodies climbed over it. The horde had arrived.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Mm-hmm, we all know how _The Last Stand_ ends in the game. How is it going to end for this story? Stay tuned for the finale. Until next time.


	37. Chapter 36: The Last Stand

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Were you April-fooled by the fake Chapter 36? Go on, you can admit it!

Ahem. And now, the real conclusion to the campaign.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 36: The Last Stand<strong>

* * *

><p>The howling was bone-chilling. Bill set down the sniper rifle on the ledge at the top of the lighthouse and lowered his eye to the scope. The lights throughout the area showed many dark figures coming up the hill toward the house.<p>

He lined up with one of the foremost attackers, leading the shot. He slowly exhaled, and then squeezed the trigger.

* * *

><p>Louis jumped at the sound of Bill's sniper rifle going off upstairs with a sharp <em>CRACK.<em> More shots followed. The former office worker narrowed his eyes in concentration and peered through the cracks in the boarded-up windows at the dark yard outside.

Francis covered the barricaded front door with his trusty shotgun. "Let them get close before you detonate those propane tanks."

Zoey nodded jerkily, scared out of her wits. She took a deep breath to calm herself. _Easy... Remember what Dad taught you... Lead the target... Short bursts... Squeeze the trigger, don't pull..._

* * *

><p>Bill's brow creased in grim concentration as he lined up another shot. He was anxious at the amount of people appearing from the withered trees, threatening to envelop the house.<p>

_Francis, you son of a bitch. Why did you have to set off that car alarm?_

He stole a glance back at the blinking lights from the boat in the river far below, and hoped that they could hold out. A din of bloodthirsty snarls rose up into the night.

* * *

><p>The loud <em>CRACK<em> of the sniper rifle rung overhead continuously.

"The old man must be having a field day up there," Francis muttered to the others.

At that moment, Zoey spied a dark figure rushing up the path toward the house and promptly squeezed the trigger. Muzzle-flashes lit up the room as her and Louis' M-16s spat flame. The Common Infected running for the house saw two star-shaped bursts of light from the barricaded windows, moments before they were cut down by bullets.

"Reloading!" Louis yelled over the roaring gunfire.

"Hurry up!" Francis yelled. "More coming!"

The combined fire of two M-16s and a sniper rifle were able to take down several more attackers, while Francis blew away anyone who got too close to the front door. However, more Infected were emerging from the woods, and the sounds of pounding reverberated throughout the wall of the house as they set about making their own doorways.

"Are you guys gonna shoot the tanks or what?" the biker bellowed, firing off a round that tore an infected man back from the doorway in a hail of blood.

"Alright!" Louis yelled. "You get the right one Zoey! I'll take the one on the left!"

"I'll take my shot after you!" she shouted back over the roaring gunfire, not too enthusiastic with the prospect of getting a face full of shrapnel.

Louis levelled the sight of his M-16 with one of the discarded propane tanks lying outside the house. "Take cover!"

_BOOM!_

A deafening blast shook the front of the house as the tank exploded upon impact with the bullets. The shrieks of the Infected caught in the blast radius ceased immediately, followed by the dull thuds of flying body parts and pinging shrapnel.

Zoey waited a few moments before bringing up her rifle and drawing a bead with the second propane tank lying in the yard. "Stay down!"

A second small explosion obliterated the remaining Infected outside the lighthouse in a flash of light and smoke. Countless shards of metal peppered the window boards, smashing several completely. The survivors cowered below the openings, taking cover from the destruction that ravaged the face of the house. Presently, they all climbed to their feet and resumed defensive positions. The wave of Infected had been decimated by the two explosions, and the remaining attackers were dispatched with relative ease.

The Infected in the distance roared angrily, further agitated by the loud explosions that had gone off recently. But for the time being, their prey welcomed the slight reprieve.

* * *

><p>Bill took a moment to reload the sniper rifle. Although the timing of detonating those propane tanks could have been better, his companions downstairs were still doing a good job of defending the lighthouse. He finished reloading and moved up to prepare another shot.<p>

_SHLKT!_

A long tentacle whipped out of the trees below with terrifying force, wrapping itself around his wrist.

"Son of a bitch!" he shouted, wrestling with the tentacle-like tongue.

The force at which it had grabbed him nearly broke his arm. He struggled, but could not free himself, and could feel the Smoker pulling him toward the edge.

"Oh no you don't!" he shouted, dropping the rifle and using his free hand to draw the combat knife from his belt.

An inhuman shriek of pain bellowed from the trees when the war veteran slashed through the tongue, freeing his arm. Without wasting a second, he picked up the sniper rifle and took aim into the trees. After a careful minute of searching, he spied the offending Smoker lurking in the undergrowth.

"Gotcha, freakshow."

The loud gunshot of the sniper rifle was instantly followed by a cloud of dark green smoke billowing out from the trees.

* * *

><p>"Everyone okay?" Zoey asked shakily as she reloaded her assault rifle.<p>

"I think I caught some shrapnel," Louis panted, feeling a burning sensation radiating out from his left forearm.

"What? How?"

"Just lucky, I guess."

Zoey momentarily left her position and came over to her friend, frowning at the sight of several bloody-looking wounds in his arm. "How bad is it?"

"It's not gonna kill me. Just wrap them up, and we can get the shrapnel out once we're safely on the boat."

The howls of the incoming horde drew closer as the young woman hurriedly reached into their rapidly-dwindling medical supplies for some wrapping, and haphazardly bandaged Louis' arm to stem the bleeding.

"Thanks, Zoey," he said gratefully, to which she nodded and returned to her window just as Francis fired off a shot at something outside.

The two M-16s opened up with a withering burst that intercepted the Common Infected in a hail of blood and fire. Dead bodies were trampled as the others scrambled their way up the hill toward the lighthouse. Louis' terror became extreme when he saw a solid wall of dark figures rushing at them. Though their desperate defence was felling many of the attackers in droves, it was nowhere near enough.

"Keep an eye on all sides!" Francis yelled over the roaring gunfire as the incessant pounding began once again all around them.

Louis followed the advice and looked over to see a hand plough through the boards covering up a window on his left with a splintering crack. He drew a bead and fired, killing the offender quickly. Zoey let loose with an extended burst of gunfire, eradicating several Common Infected in front of the house, and then ducked down below her window to reload.

She screamed when a bloodied fist smashed through the boards right over her head. The hand began to flail around, grasping for a throat to tear out. However, Francis promptly stepped in front of the window, took aim with his shotgun and fired.

"Come on, reload faster!" he yelled, running back and forth between windows, blasting attackers away from them as the covering boards were gradually smashed and knocked aside.

* * *

><p><em>Lead the shot…<em> _Squeeze the trigger… Eject spent casing… New bullet… Select a target… Lead the shot…_

Despite the fact that he was grossly underqualified to be using a sniper rifle by military standards, Bill figured that desperate times called for desperate measures. His performance with the weapon back at Riverside Church had proven that fact, and their current predicament was no exception.

Though he was clumsy with many shots, the sheer number of Infected storming up the hill toward the lighthouse allowed him to fire hastily and still take down many of the attackers. However, the situation was going down the crapper, and fast. The Infected had enveloped the front side of the house, and were rapidly moving to surround them. He could hear smashing and pounding below, and knew that they were slowly breaking in. Two bright flashes accompanied the tinkling of glass and _WHOOSHING_ of fire as two Molotov cocktails exploded in the yard, setting a number of Infected on fire.

Bill kept a calm and composed demeanour, and continued to fire killing shots into the crowd below. There were so many, but one more dead Infected meant one less rabid maniac chasing them down when they made their escape. Speaking of which…

The war veteran paused for the briefest of moments to glance over his shoulder toward the inky blackness of the river below. He could see that the blinking lights of the _Saint Lidia II_ were just about at the shore.

_Time to get the hell out of here._

* * *

><p>"They're inside!" Zoey yelled, firing upon several people climbing in through a window which had its blockade of boards torn away. They howled in pain as they collapsed to the floor of the house.<p>

"Would those boat people hurry the fuck up?" Francis shouted. He looked in alarm to see the barricade of furniture assembled in front of the door being rapidly battered aside by a flurry of clawing arms.

Icy weights wrapped themselves around Louis' heart as several fists and hands smashed through the remainder of the boarded-up windows. The Infected could now enter the house from any direction they chose.

"Oh, SHIT, we are so screwed!"

"Everyone alright?" came Bill's voice from the stairs, and three sets of eyes snapped in his direction immediately.

"Are you here for what I think you're here for…?" Louis asked hopefully, turning back toward the front end of the room and shooting down several more Common Infected climbing in through the windows in a long burst.

"The rescue boat's at the shore," Bill shouted over the deafening cacophony of weapons fire, inhuman screams, and cracking wood. "Everyone follow me! Once we're outside, stick together, watch each others' backs and do _not_ go down!" He slung the sniper rifle over his shoulder and drew his pistol, heading over toward the chosen escape window.

The others covered him while he viscously kicked out the boards covering the opening. Zoey and Louis coordinated their reloads so that someone was always providing long-range cover across the room with their M-16, while Francis took down any Infected that got too close with his shotgun. Just as their escape route was cleared, many attackers entered the house from several different windows, and the hastily-assembled barricade in front of the door was knocked aside completely, allowing even more to charge in.

"Bill, we've gotta go!" Francis shouted urgently. "They've broken through!"

The survivors quickly climbed through the window to find themselves around the back end of the house, on a strip of cliff above the river far below.

"Now where?" the biker yelled.

"Follow me!" Bill led the way toward the path he had seen earlier, firing several shots and killing a number of snarling figures that came around the corner of the house. "Don't waste your time shootin'! Only kill the ones directly in your way!"

Francis hurled their last remaining Molotov into a crowd of approaching Infected, and then followed the others as they sprinted desperately across the yard and down a narrow rocky trail that wound its way down the cliff. They made their way down the path in a fighting retreat – the two leading combatants would pause and cover the others as they ran past them, and then turned and overtook the other two while being covered themselves. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book, but proved to be very effective at holding back their snarling pursuers.

The group presently found themselves at the end of the trail, which had flattened out onto a sandy beach at the bottom, with a small wooden dock extending out into the water. There, at the end of the dock, were the lights of the _Saint Lidia II_. Zoey was running on pure adrenaline, but the sight lifted her spirits dramatically.

"Haul ass to that boat!" Bill shouted. "RUN!"

The team abandoned their defensive shooting and broke into full sprint across the dock, finally crossing onto the steel deck of the fishing vessel. Once they were all on board, they resumed firing at the Infected charging at them along the dock as the hum of the boat's motor increased dramatically to a roar. As it pulled away from the shore, several infected people continued their relentless pursuit, diving into the water and swimming clumsily after it. One unfortunate individual was sucked under the rear fan with a sickening flurry of slicing. The dark water churned red.

Zoey, Bill, Francis and Louis stood alert in the middle of the deck behind the superstructure, waiting for the hands of attackers to begin appearing over the sides of the boat. None did, and they slowly allowed themselves to relax. Zoey abruptly giggled, giddy with raw relief.

"I can't believe… we got out of that mess…" Louis panted.

"It sure was a shit-swarm of Infected we held off back there," Bill grunted in agreement. He started forward toward the superstructure of the _Saint Lidia II_. "Let's go thank the Slaters, shall we?"

Zoey and Louis followed him, eager to meet their rescuers in person. Francis cast one last look back at the lighthouse, its lamp still shining like a beacon in the darkness, and the howls of the Infected now swarming it still audible in the distance.

The fishing vessel sped southwest along the river, leaving the doomed town of Riverside behind it.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

As much as I hope you all enjoyed the 'canon' version of _The Last Stand_ with my little April Fool's joke, I hope that my alternative take on the level was just as good.

We are nearly at the end of _Death Toll_. There is just one more event to wrap up.

As always, reviews are appreciated.


	38. Chapter 37: Standoff: Part I

**Chapter 37: Standoff: Part I**

* * *

><p>The fishing vessel motored southward down the river, surrounded by darkness. The four survivors of the Riverside ordeal wearily entered the small superstructure near the bow of the boat and made their way to the front cabin, where they found a couple who must have been in their mid-thirties. Francis gravitated toward the back, his dour posture and manner in stiff contrast to the youngest two members of his group, who were eager to meet these new survivors.<p>

The woman, a plain blonde dressed in jeans and a tattered jacket, smiled at them. "Glad you folks made it. I'm Amanda Slater."

Bill shook her hand as he introduced himself and the others. "Thanks for coming to get us."

"We owe you our lives," Zoey chipped in gratefully.

The older woman simply nodded, while the man at the controls finally turned away from the window to face them. He had tousled black hair, an average build, rugged features, and wore a fishing vest over a bloodstained shirt.

"The name's John Slater," he said, shaking everyone's hands. "I'm happy you all made it out of that mess in one piece. It sure sounded like there were a lot of Infected up there at the lighthouse."

"You have no idea," Louis replied.

"I'm glad I don't," he chuckled.

"Where you folks headed?" Bill asked crisply as he pulled out a cigarette from the breast pocket of his jacket. Amanda scowled, and John looked as though he might comment on the older man's smoking. Whatever he saw in those steely grey eyes, however, seemed to change his mind.

"There's a small military stronghold down the river. As far as we know, it provides armed support for several minor settlements in the area, where survivors are still trickling in."

"That's good news," Louis said.

"Where did you two come from?" Zoey asked, very interested to learn their stories.

"Harrisburg, a town further down the river," Amanda replied. "It was overrun a few days ago, and we heard about the army being up in Riverside, so we figured we'd try our luck. But they were gone by the time we got there."

"Looks like you're in the same boat as us."

No one laughed at Louis' lame joke. His voice, however, reminded Zoey of the injuries he had sustained back at the lighthouse.

"Louis took some shrapnel to his arm just before," she said, motioning to him, and then turning back to face John. "You wouldn't happen to have any sterilised tweezers, would you?"

"Sure. We have some gear below deck. Come with me and I'll show you." He looked over at Amanda. "Would you take the controls, dear, while I show this lovely young lady where our medical supplies are?"

The older woman's expression flickered to something tight and drawn for a moment, before resuming its passive and mild state. "Of course," she replied, turning to take the throttle.

"Make yourselves comfortable," John said to the others of the group, who were staying in the cabin with Amanda. "Follow me," he said lightly to Zoey.

He led her outside, and then down some stairs into the sub-deck hold. It was a dark space with sparse light, courtesy of a number of lamps swinging overhead. Miscellaneous supplies could be seen shelved all around the room.

"It's a nice boat you have here," Zoey said conversationally as she gazed around.

"Why, thank you," John replied pleasantly. He pointed to a box sitting on the floor at the far end of the room. "That's where we keep the medical stuff."

* * *

><p>"Have you run into any other survivors?" Louis asked Amanda as she steered the boat down the river.<p>

"We encountered a small group a while back, but they weren't armed well enough." She sounded sorrowful. "Didn't even have guns. The poor things didn't stand a chance."

"What happened to them?"

"They didn't make it."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the cabin, and Bill could not help feeling slightly uneasy.

Amanda glanced at her watch to see that it had been over five minutes since her husband had taken the young woman downstairs. Finally, she let out a nervous chuckle. "I don't know what's taking them so long. John wouldn't be able to find his own head if it wasn't screwed on."

Louis shot her a smile, and Bill nodded.

"I'll go downstairs and help them find those tweezers," she continued, turning to face him. "Do you mind taking the controls for a minute?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "Sure."

* * *

><p>After rummaging through the box, Zoey finally procured out a pair of medical tweezers. "Thanks," she said, straightening up and putting the tweezers in the pocket of her jeans. "These are exactly what I need."<p>

"No problem," John replied, standing aside and gesturing toward the exit from the hold. "Shall we?"

She made her way past him and toward the stairs. However, just as she was about to reach them, she felt the man wrap his arm around her waist and violently pull her upward.

"Hey, stop! What are you doing?" she exclaimed in shock.

She received no response from him, aside from the tightening of his grip.

"Let me go!" Zoey cried out.

She struggled and yelled, but her attacker clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her cries. Her panic became extreme when she realised that her guns, along with her backpack, had all been left topside in the front cabin of the boat. John roughly pulled her over to the edge of the room and placed a hand behind her head.

"Please... don't..." she pleaded.

But the man was past the point of reasoning. He pulled her head back and then slammed her forehead into the wall, knocking her out. As her limp figure crumpled to the floor, he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him. He looked over to see Amanda entering the room, holding a pistol.

"Did you hear anything up top?" he checked.

"No," she replied, shaking her head and handing him a cable-tie.

John nodded and rolled Zoey over onto her stomach, pulling her hands behind her back. Moments later, her wrists were crossed and tightly bound together, restraining her hands behind her.

"Wake her up," Amanda said, casting a wary eye to the stairs. "Let's get this done, before her friends catch onto what's happening. Now that we have a hostage, I'm sure they'll cooperate."

Her husband sat Zoey up, propping her back up against the wall. Her head slumped forward, but he held her up with one hand, and slapped her across the face several times with the other.

"Wake up, sweetheart. It's show-time."


	39. Chapter 38: Standoff: Part II

**Chapter 38: Standoff: Part II**

* * *

><p>"They sure are taking a while to find a pair of medical tweezers," Louis chuckled absently. "I feel bad for giving them so much trouble."<p>

Bill, on the other hand, was frowning deeply. It had been ten minutes. Something was wrong. He could feel it. "Take the controls," he said to Louis, going over to the back wall of the cabin and picking up his pistol. "I'm going to find what is going on – "

At that moment, a hoarse shout from outside on the deck caught everyone's attention. _"We have your friend! Come out with your hands up!"_

"Aw, _balls,_" Francis muttered, looking behind them. "I _knew_ there was something about those two I didn't like."

Louis immediately eased off the throttle, bringing the fishing vessel to a drifting stop in the middle of the river. The three of them grabbed their weapons and rushed out to the deck to find Zoey and their 'rescuers' standing near the edge of the boat.

Zoey's hands were tied behind her back, and John was roughly pushing her along the deck. As soon as he saw the others emerge from the superstructure, he pulled her back and pressed a pistol to her temple. Her eyes widened with fear. Amanda aimed her pistol at Bill, while he, Louis and Francis pointed their guns at the couple.

"Don't move!" John yelled at them. "Drop your weapons! Now!"

They froze where they stood. After everything they had been through, they now had to deal with this?

Bill narrowed his eyes at the sight of Zoey being held hostage. "Let her go."

John bit his lip nervously. "I don't want to do this. No one has to get hurt. Just lower your guns, and put them down on the deck."

Francis sneered at him. "That's what this is all about, huh? You're in desperate need of weapons, so you crafted this little hustle? Get us on board, wait until one of us is alone, and then take them hostage?"

"Just do as he says," Amanda replied evenly.

"I don't think so. We have the superior firepower here. _And_ you're outnumbered. You two don't stand a chance."

"That's true," John replied, pressing the muzzle of his pistol harder against Zoey's head. "But if you try anything, I _will_ kill her."

The tense standoff continued for a few more moments, with people on both sides exchanging nervous glances with each other more than once. Fingers were tensed on triggers.

Zoey's ragged breath hitched in her throat. She could not believe they had _trusted_ these people.

Finally, Bill scowled and threw his guns and knife to the deck at John, Amanda and Zoey's feet.

John motioned with a wave of his gun. "The rest of you. All of your weapons. _All_ of them!"

Francis gripped his shotgun tighter, but Bill shot him a stern look.

"Do as he says."

The stocky biker blanched. "But – "

"Do as he says!"

He and Louis slowly and reluctantly took out their various firearms and knives and placed them on the deck. John roughly pulled Zoey toward the edge of the boat by the crook of her arm, while Amanda kept her pistol trained on Bill.

The war veteran never took his eyes off John. "A word of advice for you two. Never stop running."

"Oh, I'm scared," he sneered. "It's the _end of the world,_ mate. We've got enough problems. Just who the hell are _you_ meant to be to stack up to that?"

"I'll tell you who I am," the old man said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm the guy you never want to run into again. Because the next time you see me, I'll be there to kill you."

A brief hint of fear flickered across John's face. Suddenly, Francis used the momentary distraction and leapt into action, drawing a pistol he had managed to keep hidden. He pointed it at John –

_BANG!_

The biker cried out and recoiled as a bullet from Amanda's pistol slammed into him. The force from the impact sent him toppling over the railing of the boat and into the water.

"Francis!" Louis yelled. He looked back to see Amanda realigning her aim at _him_. "Oh, shit..."

He ran for his life to the edge of the boat and dove overboard as Amanda began firing at him. John looked back to see that Bill had taken advantage of the commotion and was running straight at him. He panicked and did the only thing he could think of.

He threw Zoey overboard. She cried out as she vanished into the dark waves.

John looked back up, expecting to find Bill about to unleash a world of hurt upon him. However, he was relieved to see that the older man readjusted his course and dove into the water after Zoey. With the threat from the other four survivors gone, John surveyed the pile of the guns that they had secured, and found himself questioning what they had come to.

"Go! Go! Go!" Amanda cried, breaking him out of his reverie.

He ran into the superstructure to the control panel and pushed forward on the throttle. The fishing vessel motored off and disappeared into the night.

* * *

><p>Zoey thrashed about in the dark, icy water, terrified out of her mind. She struggled to stay afloat, but with her hands tied behind her back, all she could do was kick with her legs.<p>

"Someone, help! I can't paddle – " Her panicked cries for help were cut off as she inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of water. She resurfaced, coughing and spluttering.

Zoey had heard that drowning was one of the most horrific deaths imaginable. With the outbreak of the Green Flu, she had expected to meet her end by various terrible means. Drowning had never occurred to her.

Her strength soon gave out, and she sank below the surface toward the blackness.

The young woman realised that she could see light filtering through the surface of the water above her as dawn approached. The rays scattered and broke through the water in a dispersion of different colours. She was thankful to at least have the privilege of witnessing such a beautiful sight as her last view. Others were not so lucky.

Spots were beginning to appear in her vision from lack of oxygen, and her world darkened as she began to lose consciousness.

_I'm coming home, Mum..._

In the back of her mind, Zoey thought that she could feel hands grabbing her and pulling her upward. Perhaps it was an angel...?

* * *

><p>Bill grasped Zoey with all his strength and swam upward. He broke the surface with a loud, agonized scream.<p>

"I've got you, Zoey, I've got you," he babbled, shivering with the cold.

He held onto her, bobbing about in the water for several moments. When she did not respond, he feared the worst. He looked around desperately and saw that he was floating near the west bank of the river.

_At least those bastards had the common courtesy to kick us out and leave us to die near the shore._

Several minutes later, Bill emerged from the water, carrying Zoey in his arms. He laid her down on the gravelly sand and examined her face in the scarce light as the sun approached on the horizon. Her eyes were closed, and her lips looked slightly blue. Hypothermia and water in her lungs. Great, just great.

"D-D-Don't you give up on me now..." he whispered desperately, his teeth chattering from the cold.

He placed his hands on Zoey's chest and pumped. The desperate CPR session on the dark beach would have looked pitiful to anyone passing by. A full minute passed, but Zoey did not stir.

"Damn it, Zoey!" Bill shouted, tears in his eyes. "Don't you _dare_ die on me!"

Two minutes passed, but she still did not stir.

"I _promised_ myself that I w-w-wouldn't let anything happen to you!" the normally hardened man heaved, as he continued to pump her chest. "You have to _survive_, Zoey! Remember the p-promise that you made back in M-Mercy Hospital, to Joe and Roger, and Trev and Andy!"

He pressed on with the CPR, stopping to pound Zoey's chest occasionally. He did not care about the fact that he was bitterly cold and wet; that Francis and Louis were both missing; that they were all stranded in the cold, dark dawn in the middle of nowhere, with no supplies and no weapons. The Infected could all go straight to hell. Bill would have continued to administer CPR to Zoey all night if he had to.

Suddenly, her green eyes shot open as she coughed up water. She struggled to sit up, coughing and spluttering. Bill sighed with relief and helped her to sit up.

Zoey gasped for a few moments as she regained her breath, and then she looked at him gratefully. "Th-Th-Thank you..."

"Don't mention it, k-kid," he said, his face crinkling slightly as he smiled.

He pulled Zoey to her feet and embraced her in a crushing hug. She closed her eyes and rested her chin on the old man's shoulder, shivering. She was bitterly cold, wet and dripping. But _wow_, she was _alive!_

The two of them stood like this for a while, listening to the soft crash of the river waves on the beach. Presently, Bill let go of her and then bent over, seemingly searching for something in the sand. "Let's see if we can do something about that cable-tie..."

Zoey shivered as she looked around, surveying the beach. "Where are L-Louis and Francis?"

"I don't know," Bill sighed. He stood up a moment later holding a jagged-looking rock. "Turn around," he ordered.

Zoey turned her back toward him and he started scraping the edges of the rock against the cable-tie binding her wrists. After a while, she felt the tough plastic bond break.

"Ahhh, thanks," she sighed, bringing her hands back in front of her and rubbing her wrists. She looked around some more, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered. "Where _are_ we_?_"

"I don't know," Bill said. He looked at her solemnly. "Kid, we've been left for dead."


	40. DEAD AIR: Chapter 39: Dawn

**Part IV: Dead Air**

"_Their flight just got delayed. Permanently."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 39: Dawn<strong>

* * *

><p><em>THREE WEEKS AFTER FIRST INFECTION...<em>

Zoey wrapped her arms around herself tightly, but she could not stop herself from shivering uncontrollably. The situation was grim. They had no supplies, no weapons, no shelter, and had lost Louis and Francis in the events that had transpired on the fishing vessel. Fortunately, the shore that they had ended up on harboured no Infected, for the moment at least.

Bill looked to the east to see the sun beginning to rise. His teeth chattered with the cold. "Hopefully w-w-with the light, we'll be able to f-find the other two easier."

"They c-c-can't be far," Zoey agreed grimly.

With that, they set off down the beach in search for the others. They could not afford to call out in their defenceless state, in case danger lurked nearby. The two clung to each other for warmth, their clothes soaking wet. Fortunately, the hypothermia was mild. However, Zoey knew that if they did not find a way to warm up soon, it could get dangerous.

She looked down at the red bruising around her wrists and sighed. "I still c-can't believe those Slaters… They d-did a-all of that… for _weapons?_"

Bill simply growled dangerously. The mental image of John holding a gun to Zoey's head made his blood boil. The war veteran knew that if they ever crossed paths again, he would not hesitate to kill the man who had used her as a human shield.

"I m-mean, they must be p-p-pretty desperate," she continued. "Pretty d-damn desperate for them to steal all our stuff and then leave us t-t-to die!"

"The world is truly lost, when we are forsaken by our fellow man," he muttered.

The young woman shot him a strange look. "What's with the social commentary, Bill?"

"J-Just havin' a bit of an epiphany, k-kid. If this is w-w-what mankind has come to, then I d-don't want anything to do with it."

She gave him a hard squeeze playfully. "Just don't give up on people, okay? A f-few rotten apples doesn't mean the whole b-batch is bad."

At that moment, Bill noticed two dark figures on the beach further up ahead in the dim light of the early morning. "Hold up," he hissed warningly.

However, one of the shadows turned to face them. "Bill? Zoey?" a familiar voice called.

"Louis!" she cried out in relief, running forward. She flung her arms around him in tight hug. "Thank god you're both okay!"

"You too!" he exclaimed.

"When I saw Francis get shot – " Her words caught in her throat when she looked down to see the main in question sitting on the sand, with a hand to his right shoulder. He was obviously in pain.

"Let's have a look, son," Bill grunted, kneeling down beside him.

"It hurts like a motherfucker," Francis growled.

"Just be glad that Amanda only managed to hit you in the shoulder."

"I swear, when I catch up to that bitch…"

Bill grimaced when he saw the bullet-hole in the muscle. "We have to get that bullet out."

"How, though?" Louis asked. "We have no med-kits, no tweezers, no bandages…"

"Wrong," Zoey said dryly, pulling out a pair of medical tweezers from her pocket. "It's the one thing those assholes were nice enough to leave us with."

"Okay, but we're not going to go digging around in Francis' shoulder for the bullet in the dark." Bill looked westward to see a highway running away into the distance, littered with abandoned cars, several of which were on fire. "Francis, do you still have that pistol?"

The biker grimaced and handed over the group's only remaining firearm. "The barrel has to be drained if you don't want it rupturing on you."

"I fought a war in a damn jungle – no need to warn me about wet guns," the former military man said over his shoulder as he led them toward the road.

The sky brightened as the survivors slowly made their way to the broken highway, happy to be reunited again. The dark thoughts of their current predicament were pushed to the backs of their minds as they concerned themselves with the immediate tasks of getting warm, and then tending to Francis' gunshot wound. Fortunately, the first issue was resolved almost immediately, when the four soon came across a wrecked car lying by the side of the road, still burning furiously.

"Yes!" Louis cried out, running forward.

"Wait, you moron!" Francis exclaimed. "What if the fuel tank explodes?"

"The fuel tank _has_ already exploded, Francis," Bill cut in, walking toward the car. "That's why the fire has engulfed the entire car. There's no more danger here."

The four shivering survivors gathered around the flames gratefully, warming themselves and drying their clothes. As the core temperatures in their bodies gradually returned to normal, the old man scavenged a crowbar, along with a forgotten t-shirt, lying by the roadside. Zoey checked herself over as she dried. Perhaps the only upside to her unwilling swim in the river was that it had washed away most of the dirt and grime on her skin and clothes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked Francis in concern.

"I've felt worse," he replied with a shrug. However, it was obvious that he was in pain.

"It's time we got that bullet out," Bill spoke up, motioning for Zoey to hand him the tweezers while he gave the pistol to Louis. "Drain the barrel, and then keep watch and make sure nothing sneaks up on us."

With that, Francis sat down near the burning car and Zoey held him still, while Bill slowly and surgically inserted the tweezers into the bloody hole in his shoulder. The biker gave a sharp intake of breath, but he put on a genuinely impressive act of not showing his pain during the ordeal. Bill pushed the instrument further into the soft flesh, until they came up against something hard and metallic.

_Bingo..._

He carefully eased the bullet forward and squeezed the tip of the tweezers together, getting a hold of the projectile.

"Easy..." he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The throbbing sensation radiating throughout Francis' shoulder was intensified by periodic sharp stabs of pain, and his face twitched. _Son of a _bitch_, get it out already..._

"There!" Bill said triumphantly, carefully extracting the tweezers from burly man's shoulder. A metallic _ping_ could be heard as the bullet fell to the roadside, but no one paid it any mind. The wound in Francis' shoulder held their attention as it gushed blood.

"Shit, that's a lot of blood..." Louis said nervously.

The biker grasped his shoulder as the warm liquid flowed freely through his fingers. Zoey moved forward to make a tourniquet, only to be waved off by Bill. He gave the tweezers to Louis and used the discarded shirt to pick up the crowbar he had found earlier.

"We're going to have to cauterise that wound, son," he said to the biker, thrusting the end of the metal member into the fire.

Zoey stared wide-eyed at the crowbar. "You're going to cauterize Francis' shoulder with _that?_"

Louis looked equally horrified. "Uh, maybe we should try and find a medical clinic or something – "

"Oh, a _medical clinic!_" Bill snarled, gesturing at the emptiness around them. "There's nothing around for miles Louis! If we let that wound bleed, or get infected, it's gonna get a whole lot worse for him."

"Bill – "

"Zoey... you're going to have to trust me on this."

After a moment of hesitation, she finally nodded gingerly. Bill let the crowbar heat up for several minutes, being sure to remove it from the fire before it started to glow red.

"Hold him steady," he instructed the others. "Louis, take off your belt."

The other man gave him a bewildered look. _"What?"_

"Do it!" he snapped. His tone of voice brooked no argument.

Louis quickly unbuckled his belt, handing it to Francis when he was done. The stocky biker watched nervously as Bill knelt down next to him.

"Bite down on it," the veteran ordered, to which his unwilling patient complied. "If you have a place where you are at peace, I suggest you go there."

"Just _do it_, old man," Francis growled through gritted teeth.

His cry of pain was muffled by the belt as Bill thrust burning-hot metal member to his shoulder, searing his skin with indescribable agony. Sweat poured down the older man's face, which was crinkled in concentration as he manoeuvred the crowbar onto the bullet wound carefully. Zoey and Louis held their companion in place as he writhed in agony, their faces contorted in horror at the ordeal. The searing _hiss_ of sizzling skin was awful.

Francis knew pain, but _this_ was just fucking _terrible_. Amidst the fiery burning on his shoulder, he felt sharper stabs as Bill moved the rod around, being sure to seal the hole properly. Hissing, burning, stinging.

It felt like an eternity before the crowbar was finally removed from his joint, but he knew that the burning pain in his shoulder would last a lot longer than that. Bill tore off a strip from the scavenged t-shirt and wrapped it around the newly-sealed wound just in case.

"There," he said, satisfied that Francis was no longer in danger of bleeding to death. He looked over at Louis with a trace of sympathy. "I know that Zoey got those tweezers to pull out the shrapnel in your arm, but they're covered in Francis' blood now. You're gonna have to wait until we can sterilise them before they can be used again."

"That's okay," the younger man replied, handing the group's only gun back to him. "Hell, these are only shallow wounds anyway."

Bill opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a low rumbling in the distance. The group looked over to see bright flashes behind some hills far off in the distance to the west, moments before the shrieks of jet engines could be heard from somewhere overhead.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Thank you to all the terrific readers of this story – your support and kind words always make me smile!

Also, I understand that I have been writing Zoey slightly OOC for a lot of this story, but my (very weak) justification is that it is what I feel would be a normal reaction from someone in her shoes. You need to get used to the fact that you are living in a zombie apocalypse. But now I am looking forward to bringing out the cheeky, mischievous Zoey from the game who we all know and love.

Please keep the reviews coming. And remember: "It's just Dead Air".


	41. Chapter 40: The Highway

**Chapter 40: The Highway**

* * *

><p>Though jets could be heard roaring overhead, it was impossible to see them. Perhaps they were flying too high up? The group looked in silence toward the flashing behind the hills, which Zoey knew was being caused by bombs. Holy shit, stuff was blowing up!<p>

"Can we chalk this up as a good sign?" Louis ventured. "It means that the army in the area is still kicking. Maybe it's the same platoon from Riverside."

Bill did not answer – though it _was_ a good sign that the military was still active in Pennsylvania, he was hardly excited at the prospect of walking into a battlefield. And if the US military was deploying the damn _air force_, then it must mean that there was a serious infestation problem in the area.

"There's gotta be a city over there," Francis said. "No way they'd be usin' their precious bombs to waste Infected out in the middle of nowhere." He pointed down the road. "And this highway looks like it'll bring us straight to it."

The conversation was again interrupted by a low rumbling, but this time it was coming from a turboprop transport plane to the south, flying directly toward the ominous flashing in the distance. Upon closer inspection, Bill identified it as a C-130 Hercules.

"A plane!" Louis exclaimed.

"Don't bother yelling," Bill said. "They're too far away to see us." The whole situation still looked sour to him, but their other prospects involved starving out in the middle of nowhere. "Let's follow this highway and see where it goes. But if things start to look fishy, we bug the hell out."

* * *

><p>The group walked for an hour along the broken highway, skirting cars that were crashed, or had been abandoned there for whatever reason. There was also the occasional human corpse scattered around. The Infected <em>had<em> been out here at some point.

Bill led the way along the road with the pistol, while Francis was wielding the crowbar that had been used to sear his flesh recently. That was pretty much calling dibs, right? Louis had managed to scavenge a discarded tyre-iron lying on the road, which made him feel much less naked out here.

"There's a road sign," Zoey called, pointing ahead.

The team surged ahead, eager to get some idea of where they were, and where they were headed. The sign plainly stated:

NEWBURG

12.5 MILES

"Newburg!" Zoey exclaimed. "I remember coming here to visit my aunt when I was younger. The city was pretty crappy and ugly."

"Do you think she got out of the city in time?" Louis asked gingerly, noticing yet another emaciated and pale body nearby.

"She died a few years ago… Louis, what are you doing?"

The others looked to see him kneeling down next to the body and picking up a small flip-knife lying next to it. "Eyes of a hawk," he joked, handing the knife to Zoey.

"Thanks." She seriously doubted she would be able to do much damage to an infected person with the tiny blade if it came to it, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"That cargo plane we saw earlier must have been headed for Newburg," Francis said. "Working plane means working airport – I say we head there."

Bill nodded. It all made sense – if the city of Newburg had not yet lost its fight against the infection, there could be other survivors there.

* * *

><p>The group marched onward for another hour as the sun beat down over the highway. There were very few Common Infected lurking near cars, and they were quickly taken care of – courtesy of Francis' crowbar or Louis' tyre-iron, in an effort to conserve ammunition for Bill's pistol. No more planes or activity were seen, and he was not sure what to make of the situation.<p>

Zoey shouldered the team's only bag; a _Hello Kitty_ backpack they had recently found inside a car, after emptying out an assortment of crayons and colouring books from it. Thankfully, they had not found the body a little girl nearby, and so Zoey took some cold comfort in the fact that the previous owner of the bag might still be alive.

She had been tempted to milk her watery near-death experience that morning and make one of the others to wear the girly purple backpack, but changed her mind.

_Nobody likes a smartass,_ she told herself.

As the team pushed on, Francis' mood grew increasingly sour in direct proportion to his hunger. No one had eaten since they had been on board the fishing vessel of those two people who would remain unnamed.

After ten more minutes, he saw a rest-stop off to the side of the road. "Think we should stop there for a bit?" he asked.

Bill frowned as he surveyed the scene in front of him. There were a number of dead bodies strewn around the area, some of which were badly decayed. "I don't like it."

"It wouldn't hurt to check it out," Louis quipped. "There might be food in there. God knows, we need some after those Slater assholes stole all of ours."

After a moment of quiet deliberation, Bill took point, holding the pistol out in front of him and approaching the door slowly. It was a ramshackle old building – the rotting wooden shutters had been ripped clear in favour of corrugated iron sheets, nailed haphazardly over all the windows. The others followed closely behind, brandishing their various melee weapons. The grizzled old man scowled deeply as he caught a horrible stench that lingered in the air. As he came closer to the building, he could see that the doorway had been ripped off its hinges. A hastily-assembled barricade of shelves blocked the way just inside.

_I've got a _bad_ feeling about this._

The smell only worsened as they approached the doorway. Despite the sunlight, it was very dark inside the store, due to the iron sheets nailed across the windows preventing much light from getting in. Bill carefully pushed the barricade blocking the entrance aside, and then held the pistol and flashlight out in front of him as he stood in the doorway. The dark outlines of shelves could be seen throughout the store, and he noticed quite a lot of dark blood congealed all over the floor and walls. Some of it was even sprayed on the ceiling.

"It's a goddamn abattoir in here," he said over his shoulder, allowing the others to follow him inside. He flicked the light-switch but nothing happened. _Power's out._

"But where are the bodies?" Louis pointed out. He crinkled his nose in disgust – the smell was overpowering in here, and it was _not_ wafting in from the bodies outside. Somewhere inside the building, there were more rotting corpses.

The war veteran cast a wary look around. "Louis, you and I will check the place out – make sure there are no hostiles inside. Zoey, you and Francis keep guard out front; make sure nothing can sneak in behind us."

The young woman kept her reservations to herself. She flipped open her newly-found little knife as she and Francis left the store to keep watch outside.

"Stay frosty," Bill said, pointing the pistol forward and motioning for Louis to follow him further into the dark store.

The younger man held the tyre-iron high up with both hands, ready to swing down at a moment's notice. The darkness unnerved him, not to mention the aftermath of the goddamn bloodbath they had walked into. Sweet Jesus, what had _happened_ in here?

His attention was momentarily diverted when something crunched underfoot. He looked down and saw pretzels lying all over the floor. Well, finding an unspoiled bag would be an opportunity he would certainly not turn down. By the scarce light shining in through the door, he quickly searched the nearby shelves and found two bags.

As he eagerly reached out to pick them up, he heard footsteps behind him. "Hey, look what I found – "

His words froze in his throat when he found himself staring at a dark figure. It was too dark and murky in the store to make out the person properly, but he could immediately tell that it was NOT Bill. A shrill scream split the air as he was scratched across the face.

"Oh, SHIT!" he cried, cringing from the sharp stab of pain.

He grappled with the infected woman, throwing her back into the nearby shelves and sending its contents scattering across the floor. She shrieked angrily and rose to attack again, but Louis swung the tyre-iron, shattering her skull.

The sounds of quickly-approaching footsteps drew his attention next, and he was soon met with the blinding flash of a flashlight, along with the barrel of a pistol.

"Jesus, Mary and _Joseph_, Louis, I nearly put one between your eyes!" Bill's voice barked.

"Where _were_ you man?" he shot back angrily. "I almost had my face ripped off!"

"Where was _I?_ I ain't the one who wandered off – you were supposed to stay with me – "

Two more sets of footsteps could be heard, and the silhouetted figures of Zoey and Francis could be made out thereafter.

"What the hell happened?" he grunted, his crowbar raised.

Louis wordlessly pointed out the dark outline of the fresh corpse to the others as he struggled to catch his breath.

The biker chuckled dryly. "You always had a way with the women."

"Fuck _you_, man, I almost died!"

"Fuck you, Louis, I was just havin' a laugh. Maybe you should lighten up a bit."

"Hey, guys!" Zoey spoke up in an effort to ease some of the tension. "What if there are more Infected inside?"

Everyone fell silent to that ironic statement, and cautiously waited. They allowed themselves to relax after several minutes, deducing that if there _were_ any more Common Infected lurking somewhere in the darkness, they would have been drawn to all the shouting by now.

Bill angled the flashlight, knelt down and searched the body, earning him a grimace from Zoey.

"Ugh, don't _touch_ her."

He ignored her and pulled a wallet from the dead woman's pocket, studying the driver's licence for a moment before flipping it shut. "Well, _that_ explains a few things."

"What?"

The war veteran's tone was sorrowful as he cast his gaze toward the far end of the store. "I found another body back there." He looked down at the infected woman. "It belongs to her younger brother."

The pieces slowly fell into place, and no one spoke for a while after that as the probable series of events played out in their minds. Bill cast a sympathetic look at the blood sprayed all over the ceiling all around them – blood that had belonged to a man no older than nineteen. When he and his sister had barricaded themselves inside the rest-stop, neither of them had realised that they were setting the scene for a grisly murder.

"Jesus…" Zoey breathed.

No one chose to say anything more on the subject, instead choosing to find what food they could and piling it all into her backpack – two packets of pretzels, and several cans of peaches. Francis even procured two full litre-sized bottles of water.

"We could take turns carrying the backpack," he said thoughtfully, casting an eye over at Zoey.

She realised that she must have looked surprised, because he shrugged awkwardly and went back to looking around. Was he _embarrassed_ that he was being _thoughtful?_

"New toothbrushes and toothpaste!" Louis said excitedly from behind some shelves. "The place is messed up, but there's a lot of stuff left."

"Groovy," Zoey, giving him a high-five as he shoved them in the backpack.

She even found a new hairbrush (_hell yes!_) and a small camping saucepan. Not only would it be extremely useful for cooking on the go, but she remembered Bill mentioning something about sterilising the tweezers. She found him outside, having found a small stockpile of lighters and cigarettes behind the front counter, and was in the middle of smoking one.

"I think you needed something like this?" she said, handing the saucepan over to him.

"Good find, kid. That'll definitely be useful." He scratched his head. "First, I need some water and dishwashing detergent to soak the tweezers, then they'll need to be scrubbed with a spare toothbrush, and _then_ I'll need to boil them in water for a minute or two."

"Good thing we're in a convenience store. There shouldn't be a problem finding all that stuff." She turned grimly to head back into the dark store. Even though she was doing this to help Louis, she didn't want to spend any more time inside the horrible little building than was necessary.

However, she stopped when she felt Bill's hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. I got this."

She felt slightly embarrassed, but was secretly glad not to have to go back inside. The little store had a dark vibe about it. She undid her ponytail and used the brush to restore some order to her hair as she kept watch outside. Ten minutes later, the others emerged from the rest-stop, and Bill used a newspaper to light a small fire for boiling water. As he set about sterilising the tweezers and tending to Louis' arm, Francis came over to Zoey.

"We lucked out a bit in there," she said as she tied her hair back up into a ponytail.

"I'll count us lucky when we get our asses to Newburg for an airlift rescue," he replied, offering her a half-full can of peaches.

The sky slowly began to darken as evening approached, which served to further highlight an ominous orange glow in the distance.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

It's been quite some time since I last updated, which I apologise for. Things have been busy in the last few weeks, but it's not fair to leave you waiting this long for a new chapter either.

Also, congratulations to fantasmala for the 200th review…

Holy geez, 200 reviews? Wow, I never expected to come this far, nor have this many readers. I truly hope you have all been enjoying reading this story as much as I have been writing it. Your support is what has motivated me enough to continue writing. Thank you again.


	42. Chapter 41: The Greenhouse

**Chapter 41: The Greenhouse**

* * *

><p>After another hour of walking, it was well into the evening before the city of Newburg stretched across the landscape before the group. The air was thick with dark smoke from many buildings that were in the process of burning furiously.<p>

"The last time I was here, the city wasn't so much on fire," Zoey deadpanned grimly.

"What the hell happened here?" Louis exclaimed. "Did the Infected learn how to use lighters or something?"

"Those planes we saw earlier today were providing support for ground units," Bill mused. "The army must still be here, fighting for control of the city. I'd say they fire-bombed the area."

"That's terrible," Zoey said softly, as she was struck with the harsh reality of all the people who may have been caught in the strike zone – all now burnt to crisps.

"We need to get off the streets," the old man said, motioning toward a fire-escape on the side of a nearby apartment building.

He took point with the team's sole firearm, moving quickly across the street and shimmying up the steel ladder with impressive spryness. The others followed him onto the roof, where they were met with a shear brick wall – the side an old-looking brick structure with a glass roof.

"It's a rooftop greenhouse," Louis remarked, his eyes scanning around for any danger.

"Let's hope they were growing the good stuff inside," Francis commented.

Bill led the way to a side door, which stood open. "Give me a light," he said over his shoulder, to which he was handed the group's one remaining flashlight. He shone it through the door and found himself peering into a dark backroom. "All clear," he finally said.

The four survivors piled into the greenhouse, shutting the door behind them securing the small room that they had entered. Francis barricaded both of the doors with wooden shelves. Only then did they allow themselves to relax. Zoey dropped the heavy backpack, Louis sprawled out gratefully on the floor and Francis sat down on a wooden table, sweeping aside several pot plants.

"Alright, what's the plan?"

"Immediate or long-term?" Bill inquired.

"I think we all know what our immediate concerns are – we need guns. Lots of 'em." The burly biker motioned down at the small flip-knife that Zoey was hanging onto. "I seriously doubt that little pig-sticker is gonna do us much good if we run into a larger crowd of Infected."

She shot him a dirty look, but closed the knife and stowed it in the back pocket of her jeans regardless.

"For once, you have a point, Francis," Bill said. "I'd wager that the army is operating from the airport – they'd need the runway for their planes. If this city has become a battlefield, then we'll need to be armed and ready."

"So we'll head to Metro International Airport?" Zoey said. "We came into Newburg from the east, so we have to head northwest."

"Sounds good to me. Let's do it," Louis chimed in, rummaging through the backpack and passing around a packet of pretzels and a bottle of water.

"Alright," Bill nodded in agreement, tossing back a handful of pretzels. "We'll rest up here for three hours, and then move out. Get as much sleep as you can."

As he and Louis finished off the packet of pretzels, Zoey went over and sat down on the table next to Francis. "How's your shoulder feeling?" she asked gingerly.

"What, this little bullet-hole?" he laughed. "It's nothing. Gimme a couple of pain pills and I'll forget it's even there."

"Francis…" she sighed. "You can drop the act."

"It's no act. In fact, I'll tell you what really hurts – taking a round of rock-salt to the gut."

"Rock-salt?"

"Oh yeah. Our gang clubhouse was raided by the cops all the time; seizing weapons, drugs, the usual shit. They used all sorts of crap too – tasers, rubber bullets, pepper spray – but the most painful thing I've ever been shot with would have to be rock-salt."

"Damn, Francis... How many times have you been shot in your life?"

He shrugged. "Lost count."

There was a moment of silence as they each took a drink from the water bottle before Francis spoke again.

"I'll tell you what though – if we ever run into those Slaters again… I'm gonna pump rock-salt into every orifice I can find, starting with their eyes. And I'll save John for last… for what he did to you."

Zoey was horrified by the biker's bloodlust, and equally touched by his gesture. "…What?"

"You heard me. No one messes with you, and then makes off with all our shit – not if I have anything to say about it."

"Well… er, thanks, I guess? But you don't need to worry. I can look after myself."

"I know you can, but the offer is there. I'll even let you kick off the rock-salt torture."

She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Hm, well if I run into Amanda again, I'll shoot _her_ in the shoulder for you."

Francis snorted. "Is that it? Come on, you can do better than that."

"Shoot her in the kneecaps?"

"Not painful enough."

"I give up."

"How about this? You cut off her legs and then leave her out in the streets for the Infected to find."

Zoey shot him a disgusted look. "That's dark. And_ cold_, man."

* * *

><p>Three hours later, the four survivors crept out of the backroom and entered the main area of the greenhouse. Two long tables, littered with pot plants and gardening equipment, ran down the length of the room, while the glass roof overhead gave a clear view to the dark sky above.<p>

Bill pointed the pistol ahead into the dark room with a firm two-handed grip. "All clear," he finally said quietly over his shoulder.

They made their way through the room, keeping an eye out for any danger. Luckily, the greenhouse appeared to be deserted. Bill whistled softly and then motioned at the door on the far side of the room. Zoey started to make her way toward it, but stopped when she heard something.

A low growl.

She froze and looked around the room, but could not see anything dangerous. Had the sound come from overhead? Her gaze shot up at that notion, but she could only see the dark cloudy sky through the glass roof.

"Did you hear that?" Louis whispered from the side, to which she nervously nodded her head.

"Come on!" Bill hissed from the far door.

"We heard something just now," the former business man replied, causing the others to turn.

"Where?"

"I'm not sure..."

There was a moment of silence as they listened for any more sounds. Zoey gripped her tiny flip-knife tightly. She knew that it would hardly do much to protect her, but she still felt less naked with it.

"…Hm, if there _are_ Infected out there, they could be anywhere," Bill mused. "Perhaps we should hole up in the back room? Maybe we could wait it out another day."

"We can't stay up here forever," Zoey said quietly. When she noticed that everyone was looking at her, she continued, "If we take too long, the army might be gone by the time we get to the airport."

"I'm with Zoey on this one," Francis grunted, pushing open the exit door. "We're on the clock."

"Okay, but stay sharp," Bill murmured, following the burly biker as he led the way out onto the rooftop.

Zoey's heart skipped a beat as she looked around and saw the extent of the destruction to the district brought about by the fire. It was almost as if the sky was basked in a glow of orange-red.

"Stay close," the war veteran said quietly, ushering them forward. "We'll make our way across these rooftops."

As he went to join the others, Louis stole a glance back at the greenhouse they had just left. As he did, he froze in horror. There, perched on the edge of the greenhouse roof, silhouetted by the dark orange-blue clouds of smoke behind them, were three shadowy figures, hunched over on all fours. Despite the darkness, he could still discern the hoods covering their faces, the wicked-looking claws, the powerful, muscular back legs.

"Look out! Hunters!" he cried, running forward.

A terrible, otherworldly scream split the air.


	43. Chapter 42: Of Hunter and Man

**Chapter 42: Of Hunter and Man**

* * *

><p>An ear-shattering shriek rent the air as one of the Hunters pounced off the greenhouse roof, launching itself at Louis, who cried out in shock and threw himself to the ground, ducking under the blow. The predator's scream of rage turned to one of surprise as it completely overshot the roof and disappeared over the edge.<p>

Quick as a flash, Bill whipped up the pistol and fired off three shots at the other two Hunters, but they ducked out of sight. "Get your ass up! We gotta move!"

Francis had already vaulted over the edge and dropped down to a lower part of the roof. "Come on!" he yelled.

The others quickly joined him, and then they were off, running for their lives across the rooftop. A shriek tore out from behind them, and Zoey glanced back to see one of the Hunters drop down to their level, almost immediately followed by the other. The group kept on running, vaulting over any handrails or air-conditioning units that got in their way. There was no time to run around them.

"Make for the next rooftop!" Bill ordered. "We're gonna have to jump for it!"

"Are you serious?" Louis could not help but yell.

A hungry growl to Francis' left caught his attention, and he looked over to see the first Hunter – the one that had flown over the edge – running alongside them. "Bill!" he shouted, pointing.

The older man raised his pistol arm and fired passing shots at the Hunter as he ran. It howled in fright and leapt away to the left to get out of his line of fire.

The edge of the rooftop came up abruptly. Without a second thought, Francis put on a burst of speed and jumped across the gap to the next rooftop, feeling the adrenaline surge through him as he soared over an alleyway far below. As soon as he landed on his feet, he tucked into a roll and let his body absorb the impact of the landing. However, when the burly man rose to his feet, he saw the ever-persistent first Hunter rushing at him, its claws poised to strike.

"Shit!" he cried, swinging his crowbar down at the creature's head.

Its left hand grabbed the weapon, stopping it in mid-swing. Its other claw then viscously raked across Francis' chest, sending him flying backward through the air and the crowbar clattering away along the roof. The biker landed painfully on his side and slid several feet, gasping as the wind was knocked from him. He looked up to see the Hunter crouched down, with both claws spread wide as it prepared to pounce.

At that moment, Bill landed between them, levelled the pistol with the creature's face and fired twice at point-blank range.

"I owe you one, old man," Francis grunted, climbing to his feet as Zoey and Louis jumped over the gap to join them on the next roof.

"How's your chest?" the war veteran inquired as he reloaded.

"Fine – it just nicked me."

A loud howl from behind spurred everyone back into action, taking off across the roof. They vaulted over obstacles and jumped over skylights as though they were running a deadly Parkour course. The two remaining Hunters in pursuit screamed in frustration – the scattering of railings, low roofs and skylights prevented a clear shot at their prey, and they were forced to navigate the obstacles on foot.

"What the hell – " Louis panted, "– are we gonna do? We can't keep running forever!"

"We have to find somewhere secure!" Zoey shouted as she vaulted over a handrail.

The terrifying scream of a Hunter exploded in their ears as one of them saw an opportunity and launched itself at Bill. He cried out in pain as the creature collided with him and forced him to the ground, straddling his waist and digging its talons into his back. Luckily, Louis was right behind them and swung his tyre-iron, striking the monster in the back. In howled in pain and leapt away across the roofs to avoid the panicked combatant's next swing.

"Come on Bill," he panted, helping the old man to his feet. "You aren't dead yet!"

The intense fear for their lives spurred everyone to make the next jump – across the deep drop between buildings – over to the far rooftop as quickly as possible. Once they were all over, Louis took point with the tyre-iron while Bill covered the rear, Francis having lost his crowbar and Zoey's tiny knife being little more than a token gesture in the savage face of a Hunter.

Their other pursuer crouched down and then soared upward into the air with a mighty leap as its arms flailed, flying over the alleyway and landing on top of a rooftop stairwell to Zoey's immediate left.

"Bill!" she shouted, pointing.

He cursed and emptied an entire clip firing at the Hunter. It caught two bullets to an arm and leg and screamed in pain, ducking out of sight. Meanwhile, Louis had realised that the nearest building was taller than the one they were currently on. There was no way they would be able to make it to that roof.

"Which way now?" he shouted desperately, over a gargling screech. The two relentless predators must have regrouped, and were now closing in.

"Get into the stairwell!" Zoey shouted, pointing. "Anything's better than staying out here!"

Everyone seemed to agree to this, and Louis led the way into the murky stairwell, raising his weapon cautiously as Bill closed the door behind them. They slowly made their way down the stairs, ears perked for any noises. A loud crash from above drew their attention.

"The Hunters are breaking down the door…" Bill murmured.

_** "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

Two Common Infected stormed out of a hallway to the left on the current landing, their faces bloody and eyes wild. Louis swung the tyre-iron, cracking the skull of the man in front. The other one bared its teeth and sprang forward, but was stopped in action by Zoey's knife, embedded in its heart. Both attackers fell dead, and she quickly wiped the knife blade clean on their clothes.

"Nice work," Francis remarked, genuinely surprised.

Zoey on the other hand, was quite shocked at what she had done. Sure, she acted on instinct and saved Louis' life, but Jesus, she had _stabbed_ someone. It was one thing to shoot them, but to get up close and personal like that...

Another crash from upstairs rudely reminded everyone of their current predicament and they continued down the stairs. The sounds of commotion had attracted two more Common Infected who were bounding up the stairs two at a time, only to be shot dead by Bill.

"Come on," he grunted. "We've gotta find somewhere to hole up, or at least somewhere defensible."

The survivors presently reached the bottom of the stairs and barrelled out of the fire-door and into the street. The scene was quite similar to that of the streets in Fairfield; corpses, rubble and crashed cars lay strewn all over the road. There was one salient difference however; everything was charred and burned, a grim reminder of the fire-bombing that had occurred here. A thin layer of ash coated the pavement.

"Over there!" Francis said, pointing across the street to a shop with barred windows. "It's a gun shop!"

"Those bars ought to keep the Hunters out," Bill nodded in agreement, leading the way across the road.

Most of the glass of the windows had long been blown-out, but by some miracle, it looked like the interior of the store was mostly intact and still secure. They made their way up to the entrance, only to find it locked up tight.

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap…" Zoey uttered, her eyes flitting about the street in a nervous lookout for incoming threats.

"Can you pick this lock, Francis?" Bill hissed urgently.

"Already on it," the man grunted as he knelt in front of the door. "I've done this a thousand times…"

"What were you, some sort of spy?" Louis half-joked, half exclaimed in rising panic.

"Try petty criminal," the oldest member of the group snorted as he adjusted his grip on the pistol.

"Lucky for you, Bill, you're right there," the biker grinned as the door swung open. "Pretty surprising, I was expecting a challenge."

No one wasted any time piling into the dark gun store and barricading the entrance with all the nearby moveable shelves that could be found. In the flurry of movement, Zoey could have sworn she saw a fleeting shadow in the street just outside.

However, just as quickly as she saw it, it was gone.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Parkour is an absolute blast – try it out if you haven't already. Although I can image the fun factor drops somewhat when you're being chased by three bloodthirsty Hunters.

If you feel like playing a cool little Parkour platform game I found, check it out here (obviously replace 'DOT' with periods):

sandbox DOT yoyogames DOT com/games/142650-gods-watch#

I'm flattered by all the people asking if there is going to be a sequel. This story is nowhere near done, so I haven't given it much thought.

Thanks for the feedback, please keep the reviews coming, all that good stuff.


	44. Chapter 43: The Gun Store

**Chapter 43: The Gun Store**

* * *

><p>Once the shop entrance was properly barricaded, the four survivors took to looking around the dark store. Zoey never would have pictured Bill to be openly excited or enthusiastic about anything, but she imagined the look on his face as he looked around the displays of firearms was the closest she was going to get.<p>

"Goddamn, it's like Fort Knox in here," he grunted.

"Why'd you think I picked this store?" Francis said smugly. "It's defensible, _and_ it has shit we're gonna need." He gestured around him. "Namely guns." With that, he plucked a Beretta 92 semi-automatic and a handful of SIG-Sauer pistols off a nearby shelf for himself and the others.

"Thanks man."

The biker ignored Louis in his euphoria. His mood was further improved when he looked into a nearby ammunition cabinet. "Attention, shoppers – we have hit the fuckin' mother-load."

There was silence as the others geared up with what they could find in the ransacked store. He whistled in appreciation of an untouched HK MP5 submachine gun, and was positively beaming when he snapped a 9mm clip into the slot right before the trigger-guard.

Louis' eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a Glock 18 machine pistol lying on the front counter. Those types of guns could usually never be found in a gun shop. Perhaps it had been forgotten by previous looters who had passed through here.

_Guess that makes me a VIP now…_

"This place even sold holsters," Zoey said happily, buckling one onto her hip and sliding her new pistol into it.

"Thank the Founding Fathers," the biker replied as he filled his new holster with ammunition. "And Heckler and Koch. I love those guys."

"You what?" The young woman smirked, and then feigned concern. "Francis, are you feeling alright?"

"Ah, fuck you," he muttered.

"You're such a gentleman."

"Hot damn," Bill's voice drifted from across the store as he procured a brand-new Colt M4 carbine for himself. "Now we're talkin'." He raised the automatic rifle to his shoulder and tested its weight. Though the barrel was shorter than the M-16, it felt familiar and comfortable.

"I'd say we have the firepower to take those Hunters if they show up again," Francis said matter-of-factly.

"As long as they don't get the drop on us."

While the others filled their newly-found holsters with ammunition, and Louis even found a weapon-cleaning kit, which was promptly stuffed into Zoey's backpack, Bill rested the M4 across his shoulders and wandered over to the front of the store. He peered cautiously out the shattered front windows and bars, but could see neither of the two Hunters that had chased them outside. However, he knew from their experiences back in Fairfield just how tenacious this particular breed of Infected could be. He highly doubted they had given up so easily.

He did notice that the street outside was considerably less devastated than the adjacent road. Perhaps the gun store was right at the edge of the firebombed district.

Louis, on the other hand, was looking up at the store's fire-alarm thoughtfully. The Infected were attracted to noise, and fire-alarms made a _lot_ of noise. He would have to have a word with Bill about this later. Perhaps they could use it to their advantage.

Zoey felt a pang of sorrow when she came across a rack of hunting rifles. The Winchester Model 70 – 24 inch barrel, rifle scope, bolt-action, gunstock with a wooden finish. The 'Rifleman's Rifle'. Her father had owned one, and it was the first weapon she had learned to shoot with. She smiled with nostalgia as she picked the nearest one up.

"I think we're pretty decked out," she said happily. "I'm feeling like Jill Valentine right now."

"The foxy woman from Resident Evil, right? We ought to get you a mini-skirt to complete the outfit. Just sayin'."

"Francis, if I was wearing a skirt and you tried to look up it, I would break your nose with the butt of my pistol." Zoey's sharp tone was enough to cow even him.

"You kids done horsin' around?" Bill said gruffly, pulling out a can of peaches from the backpack. "Looking outside, I'd say that this area escaped the worst of firebombing, which means that most of the buildings are intact. It's probably safe enough to rest here and wait out the night, and then tomorrow we can look for a supermarket with some real food."

"That's better than my plan," Francis remarked.

"What was that?"

"I didn't have one."

The older man glared at him for a moment, before hurling the can up to him. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get that open?"

While Francis borrowed Zoey's knife and carved open the can, the remaining bag of pretzels was doled out. The fact that they were now down to a single can of peaches in the way of food, and that there may or may not be two Hunters waiting out there when they would have to make to make the inevitable foray for more food seemed to put everyone back on edge.

The thought of those two boat people, who would remain unnamed, eating the food that was rightfully _theirs_, made Louis' blood boil. "How far do you think we are from the airport?" he asked shortly, chomping down on a handful of pretzels in what Zoey supposed was the most _furious_ way possible.

"Hard to say," Bill shrugged. "We'll have a look inside some cars tomorrow. Maybe we can find a street map."

A highly insubstantial meal of pretzels and canned fruit left everyone feeling hungry, but there was nothing to be done about it while it was dark out. Since Louis had managed to sleep back in the greenhouse, he volunteered for the first watch while Bill and Francis lay down in various places throughout the store free of broken glass. Soon, their snores filled the air. Zoey, on the other hand sat awkwardly in her spot for a little while, before coming over to join Louis.

"You should be getting some sleep, girl," he said quietly.

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the front counter, looking out the window in silence.

"You okay?" her compatriot asked after a little while.

"I guess…" she sighed, wringing her hands. "It's just… every time I close my eyes, all I see is… water."

Louis pursed his lips.

"I mean, it's not that big of a deal," Zoey continued. "I've lost count of the amount of near-death experiences that I – _we_ – have had in the past week alone. But it's just… this one was different, you know? When I was sinking down in that river, I knew what was happening – I knew I was going to die."

There was an uncomfortable silence, aside from the moan of a distant Infected, and the flickering of burning buildings somewhere nearby.

"I had a similar problem for the first few days when I met you guys," Louis said suddenly. "Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw the safe-room – the place I was ready to call home until I was rescued – and the people there who I was ready to trust like my family."

His tone had taken a bitter edge, Zoey noticed.

"And then I saw the door being broken down by the sheer number of Infected pounding on it." He looked over at her. "A damn bolted _steel_ door – and it still got busted down. I was able to escape out the back, but the others… _God,_ when they started screaming…"

His voice broke off at that sentence, and she wrapped a hand around his to give it a reassuring squeeze. He looked back up at her and grimaced.

"It's like Bill said – you're going to see some messed-up shit."

She nodded numbly, recalling the horrifying image of Joe turning before her very eyes back in Mercy Hospital.

"But you have to learn to let it go," the young man continued, giving her hand a squeeze back. "Else you'll never be able to have a moment of peace again, dreaming or awake."

Zoey thought about what he was saying. Sure, she could dwell on all the horrible things that had happened in the past three weeks since the initial outbreak, but what good would it do her, or anyone?

Louis' voice cut into her thoughts. "You going to be okay?"

"I just feel a little… _disconnected_." She offered him a wan smile. "I'll be alright, though. Thanks Louis. For asking."

He smiled back. "You should get some sleep, while you can."

She nodded and crept back to her place on the hard floor, thinking about their conversation, and finally falling into a fitful sleep. Louis sighed, grasped the butt of his pistol reassuringly, and hunkered down to wait out the hours until dawn.


	45. Chapter 44: Urban Warfare: Part I

AUTHOR'S NOTES (Update):

This chapter (and the previous one) has received some revisions. Long story short: it explains how the group has pipe-bombs now. I figured this story has gone on long enough without these awesome bombs, and it's time they made an appearance.

There has also been a change to the arsenal – Zoey is now armed with her signature hunting rifle.

I normally don't like to make changes to a chapter after it has been published, but sometimes it has to be done, right?

I am also pleased to announce I am not dead (like someone PM'd me to ask). Unfortunately, writing has been slowing down due to life. Chapters will still come, just maybe not as quickly, partly due to the fact that I cannot play the game anymore (due to not owning it anymore, or an Xbox, for that matter).

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 44: Urban Warfare: Part I<strong>

* * *

><p><em>21 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

The rest of the night passed without incident, and each time someone was awoken to take over sentry duty, there was nothing to report. In fact, by the time Zoey was shaken awake for her watch, when the first rays of sunlight were beginning to appear, not even a single wandering Infected had been seen outside.

The firebombing must have done a real number on the Infected in the area.

When she took up position at the front counter, she noticed two odd-looking devices, along with a piece of scrap paper upon which was scrawled the message: 'DO NOT TOUCH'. She was certain that they were bombs of some kind, but Bill was already asleep before she had the chance to ask exactly what kind of battlefield he thought they were walking into.

Louis was startled awake sometime in the middle of the morning when he heard Zoey's voice ringing above him. "Up and at 'em, ladies! It's time to rock 'n' roll!" He looked toward the front counter to see her cheerfully slam their last remaining can of peaches on the counter. "I even made breakfast for you all!"

He smiled, glad to see her so much more animated this morning. "Damn, girl. You made _breakfast?_ You're going to make someone very happy someday," he teased.

"This is just a one-off," she replied with a smirk, popping a piece of the juicy fruit into her mouth.

"_Fruit?_ What kind of a breakfast is this?" a grouchy voice grumbled from the floor nearby. "Run down to the shop and see if you can find some bacon."

"You are such a _jerk_, Francis."

"A _handsome_ jerk."

Zoey snorted in response as Bill came over to join her at the counter.

"Get your asses up," he said gruffly. "We've got a long walk ahead of us today."

"You back in commando mode already, old man?" Francis said sarcastically.

Bill shot him a look. "You said it yourself – the army probably won't be here forever. We're on borrowed time."

His words seemed to have their desired effect – everyone was quickly up, buckling on their holsters and checking weapons.

Amidst the preparations, Zoey stole another glance at the strange devices on the front counter. "Hey, what are those?"

Louis grinned, apparently very pleased with himself. "Pipe-bombs, baby."

Bill nodded in approval. "His idea. When he woke me for my watch, he even helped me to make 'em, and then the crazy bastard goes and attaches fire-alarm parts to them."

"How's that gonna help?" Francis interjected.

Louis shrugged. "Fire-alarms are noisy – I figured they might confuse the Infected if we run into a large crowd again."

"_When_, not _if_," the biker muttered. "Interesting idea, though. Maybe you aren't as dumb as you look."

The black man chose not to answer, instead stowing one of the pipe-bombs in his holster while passing the other one over to Bill.

Zoey slung the Winchester 70 hunting rifle over her shoulder and drew her pistol from its holster. She grinned cheekily as she shrugged the stupid _Hello Kitty_ backpack onto her shoulders. "This bag _so_ does not match my shoes. Cue 'Princess Bitchface Syndrome'."

"Please tell me your parents didn't own that book," Louis chuckled.

"No!" she cried, feigning offense. "I was very responsible for my age!"

_So 'responsible', I flunked out of my first semester at college,_ she grimly reminded herself.

"We all geared up?" Bill asked, to which he was answered with two nods and a grunt. "Good. Let's head up the street and get clear of the fires. We're completely out of food, so keep your eyes peeled for a supermarket, convenience store, anything. Any questions?"

There were none.

"Right, let's move out."

* * *

><p>The thick layer of ask covering the road soon coated the soles of everyone's shoes as they walked carefully along a pathway beside the road. The smoke high in the air blotted out parts of the sky, and caused the sun's light to murkily and drearily filter through.<p>

After scrounging a charred map book from an abandoned car in front of the store, they were able to deduce that they had to travel several kilometres northwest to reach the airport. Even after they made their way out of the burning district, heavy fighting was still evident everywhere – exploded vehicles were scattered throughout the city, spent bullet casings covered the ground, and corpses lay everywhere.

The battle did not look like it was going well.

"Hey, a supermarket!" Zoey exclaimed, pointing across the street.

Bill looked at her sharply. "Keep it down!" he hissed.

She clapped her hands to her mouth, realising what she had done, but it was too late.

An angry scream came from a nearby alleyway as three Common Infected came charging out of it, their eyes alight. A withering burst of gunfire from Bill's carbine felled them before they could even cross the road. However, a throaty snarl echoed down the alleyway, followed by several piercing screeches all around.

Zoey's mind back-flipped in panic. _Oh god, oh god, she'd killed them all because she couldn't keep her fucking mouth shut._

"Come on, let's get out of sight!" Louis exclaimed, breaking into a run across the road toward the supermarket.

The others followed him and found that, to their surprise, the front doors were unlocked. Throwing caution to the wind, they ducked inside, locked the doors and slowly backed away into the dim store. The sounds of many pairs of feet pounding against the asphalt drifted in from the street, and the survivors backed away into the store, away from the glass doors. There were angry snarls and, from the sounds of it, a number of zombie brawls had broken out. After a while, the sounds outside ceased, and everyone slowly allowed themselves to relax.

"Zoey," Bill said, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.

"Yeah?" she peeped.

"Do that again and you're grounded."

"Yes sir."

"Get a load of this place," Louis said, looking around. "It's been looted already, but there's still loads of stuff left!"

_We might even find some peanut butter,_ Zoey thought, clapping her hands together silently.

It was Louis who said what everyone was thinking. "Who's up for lunch?"

"Shit yeah," Francis grinned, reaching out and grabbing a bag of potato chips off the nearest shelf.

"Alright, let's gather anything that looks useful and pile it here," Bill said, casting a thoughtful glance toward the front doors. "Hopefully the Infected outside will disperse soon." He looked pointedly at the others. "We still don't know if there are any hostiles in here, so we go in pairs."

Zoey just about jumped a mile in the air, until she realised it was Francis' hand on her shoulder. "Wanna be my date to the prom?" the burly man winked.

"I _told_ you not to do that!" she snapped.

Bill rolled his eyes, before motioning for Louis to follow him into the stacks. "Stay alert."

* * *

><p>"Found some SPAM."<p>

"Nice work. Grab the cans of mushy peas next to it."

"Mushy peas? Ugh, that stuff tastes like shit."

"Francis… Just get them, okay?"

Zoey held her SIG-Sauer pistol forward in a firm two-handed grip as she led the way down the murky aisle – the gun-mounted flashlights they had found in the gun store already finding use. Her newly-found Winchester Model 70 was too unwieldy for the close-quarter conditions of the shopping aisles.

Francis brought up the rear, grabbing what food could be found off the shelves and shoving it into the open backpack strapped to her shoulders. It was a good system – she could keep an armed guard out and carry supplies at the same time, while he had both hands free to grab supplies, or a pistol if needed.

The biker picked up a can of baked beans from the shelf. "I used to love baked beans," he said morosely, before tossing the can away over his shoulder. "You know what? I hate 'em now. I hate shopping, too. And shop clerks and check-out chicks. And doctors, and lawyers, and cops…"

Zoey sighed in exasperation. "Francis, is there _anything_ you don't hate?"

He paused. "You know what I _don't_ hate? This."

She looked at him in puzzlement. "'This'? What do you mean, 'this'?"

The large man gestured all around them. "This! No work, no law, no responsibility. Just killin' sons of bitches day in, day out. Livin' in the here and now. Hell, if it weren't for the zombies, I could almost get used to life like this."

"Very funny, Francis." The young woman shook her head in disbelief. "But seriously, how do you do it? How do you keep making jokes, when everything just keeps going to shit?"

"I ain't jokin', Zoey," Francis said genuinely. "The apocalypse is the best thing that ever happened to me."

* * *

><p><em>PHILADELPHIA<em>

_TWO DAYS AFTER FIRST INFECTION…_

"So lemme get this straight," the 'Duke' said. "You break into a shop, steal a TV, tell the cop who catches you red-handed that _you're_ a cop, and that the TV is evidence for a crime?"

Francis grabbed his beer from the bar counter and took a sip. "Yep. And _that's_ why I'm going to prison."

Duke shook his head in disbelief. "_Man_, are you dumber than you look!" He nodded at a large man standing next to him, wearing a matching _Midnight Riders_ denim jacket. "Ain't I right, Danny?"

A petite, young woman with strawberry-blonde hair hugged Francis tightly. "I'm gonna miss you, Francis!"

The biker hugged her back. "Yeah… I'll miss you too, Becky."

"...Sandra."

"Whatever," Francis replied, taking another swig of beer. "We'll have plenty of time to learn each other's names during conjugal visits."

The bartender laughed. "Unless you're going to jail in another state, you ain't _gettin'_ no conjugals!"

Francis almost choked on his drink. "Huh – what?!"

"Pennsylvania don't do conjugals, buddy," Danny interjected.

"God_damn_ it!" he growled. "Next time I impersonate a cop, remind me not to do it in Ohio!"

"Better not waste any more time, then!" Sandra giggled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him along toward the back door. "Come on, Francis!"

"You kids have fun!" Duke hooted after them.

The pair burst into a dark back hallway and immediately brought their heads together, engaging in a long kiss. Francis moved his hand down Sandra's side and rested it just above her hip. Their lips were locked in a tender kiss, and the biker felt the young woman's tongue twisting its way into his mouth. He unfurled his tongue in response, and began to feel a hot, rushing sensation in his lower region. He made to move his hand lower –

_GLOMP._ Without warning, Sandra vomited a sickly-looking green fluid all down his side.

"Aw, Jesus!" he hollered.

Sandra held a hand to her mouth, her entire body heaving. "Oh god, Francis! I'm so sorry!"

"My vest!" he exclaimed angrily, turning to leave.

"Francis – wait."

The young woman wrapped her arms around him and gently pulled him back toward her. She bowed her head apologetically and slowly eased him closer, as her breathing stuttered and her heart fluttered wildly. She roughly pulled the man closer and closer.

"OW! WHAT THE FUCK!" Francis roared, pushing her away and bringing his hand to the painful bite mark on his neck. His hand came away sticky. "First you puke on me. Then you _bite_ me! What's next, you gonna take a crap on me?" He turned and marched back toward the main bar. "If I go to jail in another state, you are _banned_ from conjugal visits!"

Behind him, he did not see Sandra's figure stalking him briskly. Her eyes were brimming with rage, and her teeth were clenched as she snarled. Francis turned to see her coming up behind him.

"Oh, hey Beck – _augh! Holy shit!_" he yelped, as Sandra launched herself through the air straight at him, murder on her mind.

_CHOOM!_

A deafening gunshot exploded throughout the bar, and a bloody hole appeared in Sandra's chest in mid-air. Chunks of flesh and blood arced through the air. She was thrown backward and fell on her back, never to move again. Francis whirled around in shock to see Duke hefting a smoking shotgun, and looking rather pleased with himself.

"Yeah!" he hollered. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"

"Duke, what the hell?!" Francis yelled. "_You just shot Sandra!_"

"Nope."

"Duke, we all just _watched_ you do it, you – "

"She was a _zombie_, you idiot," Duke said over his shoulder as he walked toward the bar. "I hate to break it to you folks, but this ain't no flu!" He leaned back against the bar, grabbed his beer and took a long drink. "That's just what the government _wants_ us to think. First they tried to kill us with heroin. Then they built the satellites. Then cell phones. Connect the dots, man."

"Duke..." Danny began, but the biker in question cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"It was all leading up to this." He pointed out the window. "Apocalypse."

The others followed his gaze and were shocked at the scene that was unfolding right outside the bar. Large crowds of people were attacking each other, with unfortunates being mauled or beaten to death with bare fists. Blood ran in the streets.

"Holy shit..."

"And you fell for it. _Hook, line and sinker_," Duke continued smugly. "_Now_ who's crazy?"

Francis casually reached behind the counter and poured himself another beer. "_You_ are, Duke. But you're right about one thing. If everybody out there's a zombie... then everybody's a zombie _but us!_" He excitedly stood up on the counter for effect, but all it achieved was making him look rather silly. "Zombies can't put us in jail! Zombies can't do _anything_. They're idiots! Which means... we can do _whatever the hell we want!_"

"Too right, buddy!" Duke agreed.

Francis eyed the shotgun. "And if these things are tryin' to kill us, then I know exactly what I wanna do."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, the bartender and the three bikers were walking out onto the roof of the tavern, a duffel-bag full of guns and ammunition carried between them.<p>

"Everybody grab a gun and a beer!" Francis called, walking over to the edge of the roof. "The night's gettin' warmed up, and we got plenty of both!"

"Jesus..." Danny blanched, looking down into the streets at the enraged people below.

Francis pulled out an old-fashioned hunting rifle, raised it to his shoulder, and fired. A spray of red mist shot up from a man's head below as he crumpled to the ground. He whooped and hollered between gunshots that rose up into the night.

* * *

><p><em>NEWBURG<em>

_PRESENT DAY…_

_19 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE_

Zoey found herself shocked, irritated, and ultimately saddened by Francis' story. "Your girlfriend turned?"

Francis shrugged. "Well, she wasn't really my girlfriend at the time…"

"You don't seem too concerned. Did she mean _nothing_ to you?"

"I was sad to see her die, sure," he muttered, tossing back a handful of potato chips. He proffered the bag to Zoey, to which she declined. "But she was just some girl, you know?"

A beat passed as the former college girl led the way down the dark aisle. "What about us?" she finally said. "Are we just some survivors you happened to bump into?"

Francis continued to pick items off the shelf, stuffing them into the backpack Zoey was wearing. His work was interrupted when she stopped walking, and turned to face him. Her eyebrows were raised expectantly and a long silence followed.

"No."


	46. Chapter 45: Urban Warfare: Part II

**Chapter 45: Urban Warfare**

* * *

><p><em>18 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Captain Williams was _not_ happy.

His superior, an experienced Major with a knack for urban warfare, was dead – torn in half by a hooded man with viscous claws. As such, it had fallen to him to take command of the rearguard detachment and cover the withdrawal from Newburg.

Gunfire clattered in the distance, intermingled with the sounds of explosions.

_Fuck it all to hell,_ the young man cursed to himself.

They had fought fiercely for the city for over a week, but it belonged to the Infected now. The past twenty-four hours had been a miserable experience, with their remaining posts in the streets overrun. The main forces had already been successfully evacuated, and the remainder of the rearguard was now retreating to the airport, but there were still many soldiers trapped within the city.

Williams' standing orders were to hold the airport until 0530 hours the following morning, when a C-130 Hercules transport would arrive for the final withdrawal from Newburg.

His earpiece exploded with static. _"Captain! They've overrun the outer district!"_ a desperate voice shouted over distorted gunshots.

"Fall back to the airport perimeter," the young captain ordered curtly. Adjusting the frequency, he spoke into the microphone again. "Forward units are coming in hot. Have the M2 machine-gun emplacements set up just outside the terminal, and ready to lay down covering fire immediately."

A rapidly-collapsing outpost. No air support. No reinforcements. Williams sighed and put his game-face on. It was not going to be easy.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you're still wearing that tie, Louis," Francis scoffed between handfuls of Milo cereal, straight out of the box. "What, you got a meeting on later or something?"<p>

"You know who's going to survive this mess, Francis?" Bill said. "It ain't the fella makin' jokes."

"Pfft. We're in the world's biggest bar-fight right now – I don't plan on backin' out so easy."

The considerable amount of food they had managed to scrounge up in the darkened aisles of the supermarket was too big to all fit into the backpack, and so the group had taken it upon themselves to finish what was left for lunch. Zoey considered them to be quite lucky – between this supermarket and the grocery store they had found back in Riverside two days ago, they had managed to eat quite well. Despite the fact that most of what they were eating was junk-food, she figured that the excessive running, jumping and shooting satisfied the Heart Foundation's recommended thirty minutes of exercise per day.

If the Heart Foundation even existed anymore.

"It's weird," she commented after a spoonful of cold canned soup. "I mean, normally the supermarkets and grocery stores are the first things to get picked clean as the panicked crowds try to flee from the cities."

"You and your movie shit," Bill muttered as he took a smoke break. "You need a new hobby, kid."

"Can I bum a cigarette?"

"Smartass."

There was a good-natured silence as the group finished off the perishable food that they could not bring with them.

"No one was ready for it, I guess," Louis said suddenly. Seeing everyone's eyes on him, he decided to elaborate. "I mean, it only took a few days for things to spiral out of control. By the time people realised what was happening, it was already too late."

A rather sombre silence enveloped the scene at his words.

"We all set to go?" Bill finally said, lifting the M4.

Everyone nodded and stood. Zoey walked over to where she had left her Winchester rifle leaning against the aisle shelf and slung it back over her shoulder. She turned to pick up the now-laden backpack, only to find Louis putting it on.

"It's alright, I got this," he said. "You're carrying that big, mean hunting rifle now, while both my pistol and Glock can fit into my holster. Besides, you've been on backpack duty long enough."

"Thanks, Louis," she replied with a warm smile. He was a good friend. "It's purple – at least it sort of matches your tie," she teased. Seeing him wearing him such a girly backpack, she could not resist a little light-hearted ribbing.

"Stay close, and keep quiet," Bill said as he led the way toward the exit. "No unnecessary noise." He looked pointedly at Zoey with this statement, and she flushed red with embarrassment.

* * *

><p><em>17 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Thick and heavy smoke choked the sky above the city, basking it in an eternal twilight. Zoey gripped her pistol tighter as the group made its way down the street, which was becoming steadily more choked with bodies and rubble. Fires burned freely.

"Wonder where the army guys are," Louis said quietly to Bill, moving up to walk next to him. "Or all the Infected, for that matter. Haven't seen anyone since we left the supermarket."

"We're sure as hell seein' evidence of all the fighting, though," the older man grunted, a smoking cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He cast a sidelong glance at the darkened windows they passed and scowled. "I don't like it."

"The army's still gotta be out there," Louis pointed out. "We heard gunfire not all that long ago."

"That could just be other civilians who got their hands on some hardware. They're just as hosed as we are."

"Don't be like that, man. It doesn't help. I'm sure there's still someone over at the airport."

Bill chose not to answer, his wary eyes darting back and forth. He maintained a tight grip on the M4 carbine, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He did not like the way it was so _quiet_. A wandering Infected here and there he could handle, easily dispatched quickly and quietly with a broken neck.

But aside from the overwhelming carnage, the streets were empty.

His frown deepened as he thought of the large numbers of people they had to flee from quite recently. They were definitely out there. The question was where? The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end whenever they passed a doorway or window. He wondered if the Infected had retained the thought process and higher brain-function to comprehend taking cover inside buildings, to avoid smoke, and visual detection.

It was a troubling thought, in more ways than one.

* * *

><p><em>16 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

The group remained in tight-knit formation, covering each other as they followed the streets for roughly five kilometres. The war veteran's apprehension manifested itself in a spine-tingling chill whenever they passed alleyways, windows, doorways and other possible points of ambush. Even though they had yet to be attacked, he could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. Was it the two Hunters from earlier? Or something else?

Maybe it was nothing…

"They blocked off the street," Louis' quiet voice broke him out of his reverie.

He looked to see a grim concrete partition spanning the length of the road ahead, its top festooned with barbed-wire. Two abandoned machine-gun emplacements were positioned on top of the barrier, and the barbed-wire was choked up with bodies.

"What the hell is this horseshit, another barricade?"

"Great," Francis growled. "_Now_ where to?"

Bill found himself eyeing a building on the corner of a nearby intersection. He could make out more barbed-wire strewn across the edges of the roof. "Tactics for this situation call for slowly taking control of the streets, setting up forward points at various key locations. The roof of that building over there was probably a spotting post or command centre. The army would have set up a safe avenue for their soldiers to move through. If we get to that rooftop, we'll be able to find it."

"Fuck that. Look over there. That's gotta be it." The biker pointed down a narrow street just to the west side of the barricade, the road liberally covered with bullet-ridden bodies.

The older man had to hand it to him – he was probably right. The street was narrow – a perfect choke-point, where snipers could rain down fire from high windows and rooftops. Heading down that street would probably be their best bet.

"I still want to check out that spotting post, though," he said curtly, crushing his cigarette under his boot. "There might be useful information up there, maybe even a radio."

Francis grumbled but led the way back to the building regardless.

"Stay positive, guys!" Louis called out. "I've got a good feeling about this."

"You're probably right, for once," he said casually as he opened the door. "We haven't seen any Infected in a while. There probably won't be any in here."

He received a savage growl in way of a response as the door swung open to reveal a man crouched down in combat-readiness.

"Oh, _fuck!_"

A blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the streets as the Hunter pounced, tackling the biker several metres back and into a car.

It also just so happened that the car was alarmed.

The piercing wail rose up into the air as the side-lights flashed, and the look of horror on everyone's faces grew more and more pronounced.

Francis, on the other hand, could care less about the alarm. "Get this fucker off me!" he roared, feeling a stab of pain shoot through his arm as the Hunter's claws dug into it. Its other hand was raised as it prepared to tear his throat out.

It never got the chance, as a well-aimed pistol shot, courtesy of Bill, splattered its brains across the car windshield.

"How's that good feeling treatin' ya now?" Francis growled as he stood up, brushing himself off.

"We've gotta get away from here, now!" Louis shouted over the shrill car alarm.

The rest of the group was in agreement, and they took off down the road and turned left at the barricade into the chokepoint, in an effort to put as much distance between them and the car as possible. However, steady streams of Common Infected had already begun to spill out of doorways and from further down the narrow street. The four survivors immediately opened fire, the thunder of their guns adding to the already-incredible noise.

"Let's move, people!" Bill barked, swinging the assault carbine around in a wide arc that cut down a multitude of ravenous humans. Bullets sparked the road and walls, amid flowers of blood that erupted from torsos and limbs.

The situation was going to hell in a hand-basket very quickly.

"Where to?!" Louis yelled, gunning down three Common Infected bearing down on them with a short burst of fire from his Glock 18 machine pistol.

"Into that hotel over there!" Zoey called as she ran toward the front steps. "Quick! Get inside! We'll be able to fight them off from in here!" The others made to follow her, but were taken aback by her dashing back out a moment later. "Oh, shit! Do NOT go in there!"

A cacophony of howling and screaming rose up as a large crowd people came barrelling out of the doorway after her in hot pursuit.

"Holy fuck!" Francis cried. The barrel of his MP5 spat flame as he unloaded an entire clip into the horde hot on Zoey's heels.

"Stand clear!" Louis called out. "Throwing pipe-bomb!" He armed the device, initiating a blinking red light and a loud series of beeps. _I hope this works…_ he thought grimly, throwing it as far down the street as he could manage.

The result was instantaneous.

The Infected in the immediate area tilted their heads to the sky as one, seemingly in search of the infernal beeping racket that was disturbing the peace they so desperately desired. It was incredible – the thunder of guns and car alarms was enough to draw them in from far off, but the beeping of the pipe-bomb stirred them into a frenzy. They raced toward the bomb, clawing at each other to be the first to get to the noise – to tear it into tiny pieces and make it stop –

_BOOM._

The survivors did not see the explosion – they were too busy running for their lives into the nearest open doorway to take cover from prying and ravenous eyes. But they sure as hell heard it, as well as the dull thuds of countless body-parts that had been thrown clear of the blast.

"Stay down and keep quiet," Bill hissed as they took cover behind a receptionist desk. "That pipe-bomb ought to have distracted them – no more shooting until they lose interest."

"We'd better not be found then," Francis muttered.

The howling just outside in the streets continued as a horde closed in from all directions. Louis found himself praying to whoever would listen that they would not be found.


	47. Chapter 46: The Crane

**Chapter 46: The Crane**

* * *

><p><em>15 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

The survivors huddled together in the lobby of the office building they had stumbled into for what felt like hours, not talking and hardly daring to move. The moans of the Infected in the street drifted in from just outside, and Bill was glad that the door was made of wood instead of glass.

"What the hell do we do now?" Francis murmured.

"I reckon they've calmed down a bit," he replied quietly. "Let's get further inside."

That said, the group carefully made their way further into the building and shut the next door, further muffling the moans of the Infected.

"Hey, check this out," Louis called. The others looked to see him shining the stout barrel-mounted flashlight of his Glock at a large sign on the wall that read: 'MERRILL LAW OFFICE'.

"What do you call five-thousand infected lawyers?" Zoey deadpanned.

"Five-thousand more assholes tryin' to kill us," the stocky man to her immediate right grunted, flashing her a lopsided grin.

"Gee, way to lighten the mood, Francis," she smiled. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Bill watching her, and hated how it made her feel like she had done something horribly wrong.

It was Louis who asked the million-dollar question. "So what's the next move? We can't go out into the streets right now."

"Why not head up?" the former college girl pointed out. Everyone looked to see her opening a door to reveal a tight concrete stairwell. "Hey, Bill. It's your favourite – stairs!" she teased, in an effort to ease some of the tension that hung over the group.

Bill grunted in annoyance, but peered up the staircase anyway. Going up would at least get them somewhat clear of all the Infected out in the streets. "Let's head on up then."

"Let's go check down there first," Francis cut in, angling his flashlight toward the white-painted doors behind the receptionist desk.

"For _what?_" the war veteran suddenly snapped.

"I don't know, fuckin'... _stuff!_" he snarled. The two hardened men locked eyes in challenge.

Louis and Zoey sensed the hostility in the air, and kept quiet.

"Let's keep moving up," Bill said, his voice eerily calm. "There ain't gonna be nothin' down there we can use."

"You got a point," Francis agreed sourly. "Fuck looking through the office building for stuff – all that's gonna be down here are staplers and paperclips. I hate staplers and paperclips, so we'd better get outta here now, before all those assholes outside sniff us out. If they break in while we're lookin' around, you're fucked. And I ain't gonna be here when that happens."

"You done?" The older man said shortly, his steely gaze never wavering.

The burly biker clenched his jaw, his gloves tightening as he gripped his HK MP5. But something made him back down and he finally shifted his eyes away, muttering unintelligibly as he reloaded the submachine gun.

"Speak up, Francis. Your voice got all muffled from your head being so far up your ass." Bill moved off before he had a chance to answer.

Zoey made to follow him up the stairs. She shot the biker a questioning look as she passed him, but he refused to meet her gaze.

"What's going on?" Louis whispered to her as they made their way up the stairwell.

"I don't know!" she hissed back. God_damn_ it! There was an entire _army_ of ravenous Infected just outside, and yet here those two were, having some sort of slap-fight. She thought they had left all this alpha male crap back in Fairfield when she berated them in the truck depot. She had obviously thought wrong.

After going up several floors, they found that, shockingly, the rest of the stairwell had collapsed. The entire upper portion was completely gone – almost as if it had been destroyed by a gas explosion. Or a grenade.

"Looks like we aren't goin' that way," Bill muttered as he led the group out onto the main office floor.

Their gun-mounted flashlights illuminated a neat layout of office partitions and cubicles spread out before them. Darkened screens of computers that would never be used again reflected back the light. The lack of windows was sadly a common sight in offices these days.

"Louis, did you work in a cube like these?" Zoey said, smirking.

Her light-hearted rib appeared to have the desired effect – he and Bill visibly loosened up, the former grinning at her. Perhaps it was just the stress of all the recent combat that was making everyone irritable. The fact that they had not been attacked in the law office yet could be taken either way, but the young woman chose to take it as a good sign rather than a suspicious one. Her smirk broadened into a smile, although it faded when she noticed Francis glaring daggers at Bill.

"Through here," the old man said, heading toward the far side of the office floor. "Let's see if there's another stairwell."

The rest of the team followed him, carefully making their way through the dark maze of partitions. They kept their pistols on hand, ready to fire at a moment's notice, but each cubicle they passed was empty.

Zoey really wanted to keep her cautious optimism up, but –

"Wonder why it's so quiet in here," she commented quietly as they passed a row of dying pot-plants.

"If it makes you feel any better, there probably _were_ five-thousand infected lawyers in here," Francis replied. "Bet they all got drawn out into the street when that Hunter threw my ass into the car."

"I hope you're right."

"Come on," Bill said from further up ahead. "We gotta stick together, people – this dark office makes for a real good ambush spot."

"Alright," Zoey called. "Through the offices!"

"Hold up." Louis was peering inside the fridge of a small kitchenette, tucked away in the corner. "Found a couple of water bottles."

"Good find."

Zoey, meanwhile, had discovered that there was indeed another stairwell on the northern end of the building. "Hey, Bill," she grinned. "More stairs!"

With that, she led with her SIG-Sauer up the staircase, her view upward blocked by the various landings. Their footsteps echoed off the concrete walls, but there was no other sound to be heard, until –

"Son of a _bitch_," Bill growled, coming to stand beside Zoey on the landing two floors up.

The upper portion of this stairwell had been destroyed as well.

"How could _both_ the staircases be messed up like this?" Louis wondered out loud.

"The army must've blasted the stairs to prevent the Infected from coming up to reach the rooftop," Bill mused. "Crazy bastards, blowing two grenades like this. Could've brought down the whole building."

"So much for the easy way…" Zoey murmured. She looked out into the floor they had come to, her flashlight revealing a similar scene to the one below – a network of office cubicles spread out into the darkness. However, looking toward the east face of the building gave her an idea. "Follow me," she said, leading the way out into the office space.

"Where are you going?" the oldest member of the group demanded.

Wordlessly, she pointed at the windows that lined the east wall. Everyone caught on and cautiously spread out, peering through the gritty windows.

"Hey, there's a fire-escape over here," Louis called out. "And it looks like it's connected to a crane that we can use to climb down to the lower rooftops."

Bill came over and looked out the window in question. The younger man was right – if they climbed up the fire-escape on the building's exterior face, they could gain access to a small construction crane on an adjacent rooftop, by using a gangway that had been set up between the top platforms of both structures in question. Then it would be a simple matter of climbing down the crane to the adjacent roof. However…

"Zoey," he said quietly, gesturing for her over and moving aside to give her room. "Reckon you can take out those Infected hangin' out on the crane?"

She nodded silently, holstering her pistol. She shrugged the Winchester strap off her shoulder and lifted the hunting rifle to her shoulder, bringing her eye to the scope. Sighting four Common Infected standing at different positions on the various steel girders and platforms of the structure, she selected a target and then squeezed the trigge –

"Hang on a sec," Bill said suddenly from behind, startling her.

She shot him a puzzling look over her shoulder.

"Here," he said, grabbing her shoulders and gently turning her to the side. "Now brace the butt higher – against your shoulder, not the joint. That way, the recoil won't hurt your arm." He gently, but firmly repositioned the rifle, and then stepped back, seemingly satisfied.

Louis and Francis remained silent during the exchange.

Zoey nodded her thanks at Bill, turned back toward the window and brought her eye to the scope again. She carefully held the rifle as steadily as she could manage, took a breath, and then waited until she finished exhaling before taking the shot.

_BLAM!_

The Winchester barked as a bullet zipped out, striking an infected man in the head. He jerked back, a puff of red flying into the air, before falling off the crane like a limp ragdoll. The former college girl lowered the rifle and drew back the bolt, ejecting the spent bullet casing onto the blue-carpeted floor in the process. With fast and expert precision, she plucked a new bullet from her holster, slid it into the chamber, jammed the bolt back into place and drew back the safety with a final _CLICK_.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

The three remaining Common Infected fell from the crane, one after another. Zoey kept the rifle raised, just in case any more appeared. None did.

"Nice work, kid," Bill said, a smile creasing his face. "You're a crack shot."

She finally lowered the Winchester and shot him a smile in return.

"Alright, out the window then," Louis piped up.

Bill nodded and made to climb through the window, but Francis pushed past him, machine gun at the ready.

"I got this, old man – the MP5 is wieldier for close-quarters anyway. You watch our six and make sure nothing's sneaking up on us."

The burly biker led the way out onto and up the steel-framed stairs to the top, where the wooden gangway had been set up, connecting the fire-escape to the small construction crane on the adjacent rooftop.

"Looks sturdy enough."

He gingerly stepped out onto the wooden plank, testing how his weight would affect it. It sagged slightly, but fortunately held.

Zoey released a breath she had not realised she was holding. When it came her time to cross the gangway, she made the mistake of sparing a glance down at the large crowd of Infected in the streets below.

Oh god, it was a _long_ way down.

"Wonder why they bothered to set this whole thing up," Louis said suddenly. "Bridging the law office and the crane, I mean."

"I got your answer right here," Francis called from the top platform of said crane. He passed around a crumpled and blood-spattered piece of paper when the others had had crossed over to join him. "There's a safe-room in the Harbour View Hotel, not too far from here. Some gangways have been set up across the roofs, straight to a stairwell which can be taken down to it."

"Where did you get that?" Bill asked.

"From him." He motioned to the slumped body of a crane operator, minus the hardhat, an arm, and half of his torso.

The others grimaced at the sight.

"He was clutching this piece of paper like it was his last lifeline or something," Francis continued. "Probably wanted to make sure future folks who came through here knew where to go."

Bill cast a sorrowful glance at the dead body. Another good man dead. He wondered what sort of person he had been. Obviously a selfless one, seeing how his last act had been to create a bridge to the safe-room and leave instructions on how to get there.

"Put the directions back," he said. "If any future folks come through here, they'll need to know where to go as well."

Francis nodded and carefully placed the folded sheet of paper in the dead man's breast pocket.

"Alright, lead the way," Bill said. "Let's move."

The four survivors carefully made their way down the crane using the ladder, past various work platforms. Louis was glad Zoey had taken out those Infected from the office window earlier – it would have been much harder to deal with them from the ladder.

After a few minutes of climbing, everyone finally reached the bottom of the crane, and Bill was glad to have his feet back on solid ground again. However, he paused when he heard a strange noise – it was a thick and guttural retching, choked, heavy, and very nearby.

"Hold up," he said. "Anyone else hear that noise?"

"Yeah…" Francis replied, his eyes narrowing.

At that moment, the perpetrator stepped out from behind the base of the crane.

"Holy crap!" Zoey cried.

What had once been a man was now bloated to horrific proportions, his stomach straining with whatever foul fluids were swimming inside it. His entire face and arms were festooned with hideous boils.

Bill stepped forward and raised his rifle, but before he could shoot, the rotund man opened his mouth and _vomited_ all over Francis. It was absolutely disgusting – a foul-smelling green sludge slewed down the shocked biker's front.

"_Fuckin' sick!"_ he roared, wiping the gunk from the top of his chest, and then aiming his MP5 at the monstrosity. "You're gonna get it now, Pukey McGee!"

"Francis, don't!" Louis yelled, but it was too late.

_BOOM._

As it turned out, shooting a man that already looked like he was about to burst was a _bad_ idea. He _exploded_ – vanished in a foul explosion of blood, gore and green bile that coated Bill from head-to-toe.

"GODDAMN IT!" he shouted in shock, turning to curse Francis furiously. His rant was drowned out by a terrifying chorus of ravenous howling.

Zoey looked over the edge of the roof to a see a frightful change in the behaviour of the Common Infected in the streets below. They all began to rush into the building through doors, some even diving head-first through windows. She noticed that many of them had their heads tilted to the sky, sniffing the air furiously.

_What on earth…_

Her train of thought was momentarily disrupted by a foul stench assailing her senses. She looked toward the source of the terrible smell to see Bill, dripping in the rank bile, still cussing Francis angrily, while the latter spouted defiant retorts.

The horrifying realisation hit her a moment later.

"Uh, guys? I think we have a problem…"

Everyone immediately looked at her.

"What is it?" Louis asked in alarm.

Zoey gestured to the disgusting bile that covered Bill and Francis. "Whatever that crap is (thank god none of it was on her), I think the Infected can smell it, and it's making them stir-crazy."

Bill peered over the edge of the rooftop to see the Common Infected storming the building in a murderous rampage. He could already hear the growls echoing off the walls and stairwells as they made their way up toward the roof. "Aw, hell…"

"Shit! What do we do?" Louis exclaimed in a panic.

"We haul ass to that safe-room!" he barked. _"Run!"_


	48. Chapter 47: When Boomer Boomed

**Chapter 43: When Boomer Boomed**

* * *

><p><em>14.5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

The snarls of the Common Infected grew louder and louder as they stormed the area, sent into a crazed frenzy.

"Let's go!" Bill barked. "Make for the safe-room!"

No one needed to be told twice. They broke into a run across the roof. Luckily, like the instructions from the crane said, several gangways had been set up between buildings by previous passers-by, to allow quick passage across the rooftops to the safe-room. However, the sturdy planks were fairly narrow, and the group was forced to cross one at a time.

Bill urged the others across to the next rooftop while he covered them, and then gingerly crossed the gap between the buildings himself. He spared a look down into the alleyway beneath him to see a chillingly large crowd of people following them from the streets below. And more were rushing to join the horde –

His head turned back at the sound of a splintering crack to see the doors to the stairwells flying open, and many Common Infected pouring out onto the rooftop they had just vacated. Bill finished his crossing to the next roof and, without a second thought, kicked the gangway off the edge and down into the alley below to prevent the Infected from following them.

Regardless, many of them tried to jump across the gap anyway and fell to their deaths.

"Come on, Bill!" Zoey called from further across the roof, spurring him back into action.

However, as he began to move, he noticed two infected people appearing on the edge near her. _They had climbed up the entire side of the building!_

"Look out!" he yelled, taking aim and firing a quick burst from his assault carbine, flames flickering at the edge of the barrel. The two attackers convulsed as they were struck by the barrage and sent tumbling back over the edge of the roof.

Zoey was visibly shaken with her close encounter. "Th – Thanks!" she stammered.

"Come on, you two!" Louis yelled. He and Francis had already crossed the next gangway.

Zoey and Bill hurtled across the rooftop, their hearts pounding in their chests. The doors to the nearby stairwells crashed open as they ran past, more Infected spilling out behind them and falling into hot pursuit. Francis and Louis cursed, and began firing across the gap between the buildings at the Common Infected chasing down their compatriots.

At that moment, the stocky biker noticed several more attackers appearing at the top of a nearby fire-escape, eyeing him down hungrily. He thrust his HK MP5 forward and let loose with an extended burst of gunfire, sending them toppling over the railing. Louis continued to cover the others.

"Go!" the war veteran shouted at Zoey, and she quickly crossed the gangway to join the others on the far side. Bullets zinged past Bill as he followed her and then kicked the makeshift bridge off the building. "Next rooftop! Let's move!"

Unfortunately, the building they had stepped onto was larger than the others they had crossed. The next gangway was rather far away, and more Common Infected were appearing from nearby fire-escapes. The survivors ran, sending desperate shots over their shoulders. However, there were far too many chasing them. Francis' jaw was set in grim determination as he led the group, firing quick bursts at anything that approached from the front. At that moment, the stairwell door off to his left burst open and even more attackers emerged, screeching like banshees.

_"Holy fuck!"_ he roared. "We gotta get off this roof _now!_"

The group abandoned their defensive retreat and broke into a full sprint across the roof. Five seconds later, they came to the gangway.

"There's no time to cross one at a time!" Bill yelled urgently. "Everyone, go now!"

With that, Francis and Louis ran across the plank, followed immediately by Bill and Zoey. However, with their combined weight acting on it, the gangway sagged horribly. Just as Francis and Louis reached the other side, the unthinkable happened.

It snapped.

_"Shit!"_ Bill cursed, throwing himself onto the next roof in a desperate dive.

Zoey, following behind him, let out a shrill scream as the broken plank fell out from under her. She grabbed desperately for the edge, but was unable to hold on, and started to fall – when she suddenly felt herself stop. She looked up to see that Francis had thrust his hand forward over the edge and grabbed her in mid-air.

"Hang on!" he grunted. "I've got you."

"Thanks!" she gasped gratefully as she was pulled upward.

She looked back to see the large crowd that had been chasing them reach the edge of their respective rooftop. Most of them stopped and howled in outrage. However, several of the more ambitious ones tried to jump across the gap with frightening determination. What was worse was that three of them _made it to the other side_, digging their claws into the wall and starting to climb up.

"Look out!" Zoey cried, raising the pistol still grasped in her left hand.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_ With expert precision, she twisted around in Francis' grip and blasted the attackers off the side of the building.

The burly biker grinned as he finished pulling her up onto the roof. "Looks like _I_ owe you one now."

"Let's just call it even," she replied, ejecting her spent clip and slamming a new one into the breech.

Meanwhile, Louis and Bill had been covering them from the front, blasting away the Infected climbing up the sides of the building or hurtling at them from across the rooftop.

"You guys okay?" the old man called over his shoulder.

"We're perfect," Francis replied.

"Good. Let's go!"

At that moment, the all-too familiar screech of a Hunter echoed across the roof.

"It's gotta be one of those _motherfuckers_ from before!" Francis growled.

"Well, let's not stick around and wait to be shredded!"

He and Bill took point with their respective MP5 and M4 machine-guns, cutting down the odd Common Infected that approached from across the rooftop with automatic gunfire, while Zoey and Louis covered the rear with their respective pistol and Glock, shooting down anyone or anything that appeared over the sides of the building behind them. Progress was slow but steady.

However, everything went wrong in the next instant, and Francis' blood chilled when he saw a figure crouched down menacingly in front of the gangway. "Hunt – "

_** "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"**_

The Hunter pounced, flying straight at the biker with incredible speed. He rolled out of the way, but did not have time to warn the others. Bill whirled, avoiding deadly claws by the skin of his teeth. Louis, however, gasped in shock when the creature slammed into him, the force of the blow knocking both him and the college student down, sending her rolling away along the rooftop.

"Zoey!" Bill cried, going to help her.

Louis groggily climbed to his feet and looked up to see the Hunter less than three metres away, growling viscously and poised to strike. "Oh, shi – "

Clattering gunfire exploded as Francis fired his submachine gun, shattering the monster's skull and sending his brains flying through the air.

The force from the Hunter's pounce sent Zoey on a painful roll several metres across the roof. She gasped in pain and shakily lifted herself to her hands and knees, just in time to see a small crowd of Common Infected bearing down on her, rage and bloodlust in their eyes. With a jolt of horror, she realised that her pistol had been sent skittering away across the rooftop. The Winchester was too slow-firing and unwieldy for a fight of this nature. She was completely defenceless –

_ No I'm not._

Zoey quickly drew the small flip-knife from the left pocket of her jeans, rose to her knees and stabbed it into the chest of a man about to grab her. She used the chance to push him backward, sending him stumbling. A storm of bullets abruptly dropped him in a bloody heap. The young woman whirled to see Bill approaching slowly, shoulders hunched forward, Colt M4 carbine raised to his shoulder. The rifle spat flame as he fired another burst in a wide arc, dropping the rest of the attackers.

"Hey kid," he said, proffering a hand and pulling her to her feet. "Think you might need this." He handed her back the SIG-Sauer that had been thrown clear when she was sent tumbling to the ground.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly as they ran back to rejoin the others. "For the gun, _and_ for saving my life."

"I think we're past thanking each other for _that_ by now, don't you think?"

"You probably have a point there."

"The Hunter's dead!" Francis yelled triumphantly to them as Louis gunned down an infected woman nearby. "Let's go!"

The group carefully made their way across the next gangway – the last thing they needed was a repeat of what happened last time. Francis led the way across and then immediately began firing his MP5 at the Common Infected on the next rooftop. He was quite surprised at how quickly he was chewing through ammunition – he had completely stuffed his new holster full, but this shit-storm of a run had already caused him to use over half. The others soon joined him and Bill kicked the plank down off the building as per usual.

"Let's go!" Louis shouted. "This is gettin' old _real_ fast!"

They made their way across the roof, blasting away any approaching attackers. Zoey noticed that, although there were still a lot, the Infected were starting to thin out. Perhaps the smell of the bile that covered Bill and Francis was starting to wear off?

Francis narrowed his eyes when another fat balloon of a man wandered into view. "Watch out! Another one of them Boomers!"

"What?" Louis yelled over the roaring gunfire. "'Boomers'?"

The biker took aim. "Boom, baby!"

Another foul explosion of blood splattered across the rooftop. Fortunately, this time, they were at a far enough distance to not be covered in bile. In fact, the Common Infected nearby screeched in delight and rushed toward the Boomer's remains, completely ignoring the survivors.

"Well, this is a fortunate turn of events!" Louis exclaimed, leading the way in rapid progress to the next gangway.

Francis noticed a familiar spray-painted symbol on the concrete, indicating that the safe-house was right ahead. "For once, you're right, Louis! That next building is the Harbour View Hotel!"

The man in question reached the gangway and crossed over first, followed closely by Zoey. However, as she was making her way across the narrow plank, she heard Louis cry out in shock and looked up to see the tentacle-like tongue of a Smoker wrap around his waist, yanking him away from them, further across the roof.

"Shit!" she cried, running after him.

"Zoey, wait up!" Bill yelled after her as he slowly crossed the gangway, but she ignored him.

"Someone, help!" came Louis' strangled voice from somewhere ahead.

"Hang on!" she cried, putting on an extra burst of speed. She wound her way through a maze of tall chimneys and air-conditioning units, and soon found her friend being pulled up the side of a rooftop stairwell. The tongue draped down over the edge, but the Smoker itself was staying out of sight.

"Get it… off…" he wheezed. "It's… _ugh_… _squeezing_ me!"

Zoey stopped at a safe distance, aimed her pistol above his head and fired two careful shots. The second one severed the tongue, immediately followed by a loud shriek of inhuman pain from somewhere above them. The rubbery appendage and Louis dropped to the ground, and Zoey ran over to help him to his feet.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so…"

"Stay down," she hissed, pressing herself against the outside wall of the stairwell. "That freak will show its ugly face soon."

The two of them stood for a moment, waiting in vain for something to happen. In a flash of inspiration, Zoey pointed her pistol into the distance and squeezed off a shot, earning her a puzzled look from Louis. Keeping her eyes skyward, she opened her mouth to quietly explain that she was trying to attract its attention –

_** "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

A gargling scream rent the air as a horrific, green and boiled-covered face appeared over roof directly overhead, its features twisted and contorted, its mouth opened impossibly wide.

_ BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

Three rounds from Zoey's SIG-Sauer pierced the infected man's face and left eye, causing him to violently implode in a billowing cloud of green gas. The two of them coughed and spluttered, but they also heard two more sets of coughs nearby.

"Guys!" Louis called between hoarse fits of coughing. "We're over here!"

"You two alright?" Bill's voice drifted through the smoke.

"One dead Smoker later," Zoey replied.

"Nice work. Let's get inside. These are the stairs we needed to get to, and following them down should take us right to the safe-room."

They carefully made their way into the stairwell, closing the door behind them and sealing the place in pitch darkness, broken only by four cones of flashlights dating about the place.

"Follow me, and stay close," Bill whispered.

He led the way down the stairwell, the slightly-echoed scuffling of four pairs of shoes and boots the only sounds to be heard. That quickly changed when a throaty snarl echoed upward through the air from further down the stairs.

Zoey shone her flashlight over the side of the railing, but the darkness was too absolute for the light to penetrate very far. _We're not alone in here…_

"There it is!" Louis hissed, angling his light on a familiar red steel door on the next landing down.

Movement could be heard from further down the stairwell, but everyone's attention was fixed on that single beacon of shelter in the gloom. Bill pushed the door open, motioned everyone inside, and then swung it shut, the iron door-bar falling into place with a _CLANG_ of finality.


	49. Chapter 48: The Hotel

**Chapter 48: The Hotel**

* * *

><p><em>14 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Unlike the pitch-black stairwell, the boardroom-converted safe-room was lit up in various places by lamps, rigged to a car-battery which sat in the far corner of the room. The lights showed the scene of a massacre. A host of slumped bodies lay throughout the room, some riddled with bullets, others horrifically mauled and missing limbs.

Zoey's eyes widened in horror. She bowed her head in a sign of respect and silently offered a prayer to the countless dead of Newburg. Even with the military making a stand for the city, the signs of death and carnage were everywhere. Was there no limit to the destruction of the Green Flu?

The stench was overpowering, and she crinkled her nose inadvertently. "We can't stay here."

Francis scowled as he threw down his weapons and holster, stretching his arms over his head until he felt the joints pop. "We've been haulin' ass for the past few hours, and this is the first real shelter we've found in a while. Suck it up, princess."

"…Excuse me?"

He made to reply, but was reduced to a surprised grunt when Louis elbowed him in the gut. Zoey's normally-cool green eyes were alight with fire.

The tension in the group was waylaid by Bill's voice. "Found somethin'."

On the long, polished-wood table, next to the slumped body of a first lieutenant (judging from the shoulder stripes), sat an inert radio, the static of dead air hissing from its speakers. It started to make funny and unnatural noises as Bill tuned it, trying to find an active frequency. Everyone looked on eagerly, but their hopes gradually waned after a good ten minutes of nothing but static. Francis and Louis gradually found the food in the _Hello Kitty_ backpack far more interesting.

"Son of a _bitch_," Bill growled. "No one's pickin' up. We _saw_ the planes. So why isn't anyone on the air?"

"Maybe they just aren't broadcasting constantly," Louis said in a quiet hopefulness.

"Or they're all fuckin' dead," Francis added oh-so-cheerfully.

"Don't be like that, man."

"I'm sorry, are you blind, or have you not been seein' the fatigues on half the corpses and Infected around here?"

There was a sombre silence, broken only by the crinkling of energy-bar wrappers and the clinking of camping spoons against tin-cans.

"What's the plan, Bill?" Zoey finally asked, coming to sit down on the table next to radio.

"Hasn't changed – we're still heading for the airport," he replied stubbornly as he searched the lieutenant's body, humming in satisfaction when he found a grenade in the soldier's webbing. Seeing the appalled looks of the others in his group, he grunted, "What? We might need this. He certainly won't anymore." With that, he stowed the grenade in his belt, along with his pistol and pipe-bomb.

Francis snorted as he shrugged off his leather vest, revealing his muscle-bound shoulders and a once-white undershirt. It was not so white anymore. "I gotta wash all this Boomer crap off me."

"Not yet, you don't," the war veteran said.

"Sorry to tell you, _Gramps_, but you ain't my old man. I don't need your permission for shit."

Bill got up, getting right in the younger man's face. "In case you've forgotten about all that growling we heard further down the stairwell, let me remind you that there are Infected all over this hotel. You aren't going anywhere without someone accompanying you."

Tension sparked in the air, and no one spoke for a moment.

"We need a game-plan," Louis finally said, in an effort to defuse the situation. "Are we just going to keep going over the rooftops or what?"

"Zoey, you said that you used to visit your aunt here when you were younger," Bill said, directing his steely gaze onto her. "How much further have we got to go to the airport?"

She was momentarily taken aback by the spotlight being thrown onto her. "Um, I'm not too sure. I remember there was some sort of power-plant right near the terminal."

The old man nodded. "Alright. We'll take the ground route then. It's impossible to go any further along the rooftops anyway. That route was only set up for safe passage to the safe-room." He checked his watch, making note of the time: ten minutes past four. "If the army _is_ still making broadcasts, they'll most likely make them every hour, or every couple of hours. We'll see if we can pick up anything on the radio then. Enjoy the downtime in the meantime. God knows I need some after that shit-storm of a run."

While the others took to cleaning their weapons, checking the safe-room for supplies, or just plain kicking back, Zoey found herself drawn to the walls like usual. Like all of the other safe-rooms they had been in, they were covered in hastily-scrawled messages.

_This is our __punishment__,_ one person had written.

_It's just Dead Air_, another replied.

With the hiss of static from the radio in the background, the former college student could not help but see the appropriateness pertaining to their current situation.

**NO ZOMBIE IS SAFE FROM CHICAGO TED**

_Some enthusiasm this guy has,_ Zoey thought, smirking to herself. Maybe he managed to clear a path all the way to the airport for them. Wishful thinking.

_WHERE IS CEDA?_

This message in particular stood out to her, and it was a question she had been asking herself ever since they had escaped from Fairfield –

"Oof!" she squeaked, walking right into the biker. She'd been too absorbed in her head-game to notice he was standing right in her path. _God_, he was built like a brick shithouse.

"Didn't know you liked it rough," he teased.

"Knock it off, Francis."

"There something wrong?" When Zoey did not answer him, he smirked. "Aw, is someone still mad at me because of a little name-calling?"

"Maybe," she replied, trying to pout indignantly as playfulness crept into her tone. She could not stay mad at him for long, even if he _was_ a jerk. They had saved each other's lives so many times now, and been through so much together, she almost saw him as the annoying brother she never had.

"Tell you what, I'm sorry for calling you princess," the biker said coyly. "But for the record, I never saw you as a prissy dress-wearing princess. Hell naw, you'd be one of those feisty, spunky gun-princesses, who rebels against her royal ass of a father and joins the band of heroes on their world-saving quest."

The young woman stifled a laugh. "I never had you pegged as an RPG nerd."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I might have played a couple back in the day."

She nudged him playfully, and he gently bumped her back ('gentle' by his standards, although she was still nearly sent flying across the room). Zoey paused when she noticed Bill giving her another one of those looks – one which she knew meant he thought she was up to no good. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, but the older man instead turned to address Francis.

"Come on, let's see if we can find a change of clothes, or at least somewhere to wash this bile off."

"About fucking time, oh fearless leader," he muttered sarcastically, brusqueness immediately seeping into his tone. "Where to?"

"Nearest hotel room," Bill said, marching over to the far side of the room, where a second steel door was set into the wall. "Let's go."

"Aye', _captain_," the biker spat.

The veteran practically threw the door open, Francis directly on his heels. The others stared as the two stalked out into the dark hallway, before silence fell over the safe-room.

"…What did I miss?" Louis finally asked.

Zoey just shrugged and shook her head in annoyance at them, before rummaging through the backpack for a slightly healthier option than granola bars. The pickings were slim.

* * *

><p>Aside from the occasional "All clear" and "No Infected", Francis and Bill said not a word to each other at first. While he aimed his rifle and light down the dark carpeted corridor, the stocky biker picked the door into the nearest hotel room.<p>

Dead silence. A quick sweep of the pitch-black suite revealed that it was empty of any would-be attackers. The pair of men made sure the entry door was closed and locked behind them to prevent anyone from sneaking in, and they then took to searching the bedroom for a bile-free change of clothes.

Apparently a couple had been staying in this room before the Green Flu struck Newburg, and the two survivors found a pair of suitcases, filled with men and women's clothing.

Bill discarded his entire set of army fatigues, on account of them being completely covered in Boomer guts and bile. _Nothing_ was going to get that out. Thankfully, his green beret had been spared. He was able to replace the rest of the clothes with a ransacked pair of jeans, a clean blue shirt and a dark jacket.

Apparently Francis loved his biker vest a little too much, although he did change his undershirt and jeans.

Neither of them noticed – or expected, for that matter – the window in the living room of the hotel suite sliding up – slowly, carefully, silently.

* * *

><p><em>13.5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

"They sure are taking a while," Louis commented as he ran a wire-brush through the barrel of his Glock machine pistol. "How long does it take to find some new clothes?"

Zoey smirked. "Maybe those 'manly' men are really just a pair of frustrated fashion models? All the signs are there."

The young man snorted back some laughter. There was a moment of silence, before Zoey picked up her SIG-Sauer pistol and headed for the far safe-room door.

"I'm gonna go check on them."

"Whoa – wait. Is that a good idea?" Louis piped up.

"Relax, they're not far – only across the hallway. Besides, we need you to stay here and unlock the door for us when we want to get back inside."

He finally nodded in agreement, and the steel door groaned as Zoey pulled it open. The light coming from inside the safe-room faded as the door closed behind her, leaving the hallway in darkness. Zoey switched on her flashlight and looked around briefly to see that there was no one nearby. The power was out, but she had an inkling that the two oldest members of the group were in the hotel suite just across the hall.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw periodic blinks of flashlights through the crack under the door. She was making her way toward it, but then paused when she heard voices.

"…What the hell's your problem, Bill?" Francis' voice could be heard through the door.

"Stop eyein' the girl's ass like that. We've _talked_ about this before."

"Kiss _my_ ass, Bill. I can do whatever the hell I want, and I sure as hell don't need _your_ permission."

"Don't. Test me. _Boy_."

Bill's tone of voice caused Zoey to stiffen, and the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. He must have cowed Francis some too. The biker's next words were filled with decidedly less aggression.

"…Look, Bill, it's not _like_ that, alright?"

Zoey face flushed red with humiliation, and she was taken aback at just what the hell they were talking about. They were having an argument – about _her_. _Her_, of all things. Zoey was no stranger to embarrassment – there were countless incidents throughout high-school and college that she cared not to remember. But this just about took the cake.

She thought back on the way Francis had been acting toward her recently – a huge improvement over the way he had treated her when they first met, that was for sure. She figured he was just gradually warming up to her. Zoey then recalled his crack about getting her into a skirt back at the gun store. At the time, she had chalked it up to him just being a smartass.

But had he actually started developing feelings toward her?

If so, it would hardly be an ideal situation. From what Bill implied, the biker was mostly physically attracted to her. Although maybe her personality was appealing to him as well – she was, after all, a sassy, confident young woman, who called him nicknames and did not put up with his bullshit.

But it was definitely not a relationship Zoey could see happening.

_Ugh, what the hell is _wrong_ with me? I'm thinking about this sort of crap in the middle of the _apocalypse_?_

She shook her head in disbelief. They could not afford this… distraction. Not now.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the soft sound of pattering feet coming from somewhere down the hallway. Her flashlight immediately snapped toward the sound, but there was nothing to be seen.

Absolutely nothing.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

_Oh, this is _so_ not good._

The group could deal with all this unnecessary drama later. Right now, all that mattered was getting back to the safe-room. She quickly covered the distance between her and the room, only to find that the door was locked. She hesitantly raised a hand and quietly knocked.

That was when all hell broke loose.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Thank you all for your support of this story. I don't think you all know how much I appreciate the feedback, but I really do. It's one of the reasons why I've been able to improve in my writing, and it also keeps me motivated. So thanks again.


	50. Chapter 49: Skirmish in the Dark

**Chapter 49: Skirmish in the Dark**

* * *

><p><em>13 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

"…Look, Bill, it's not _like_ that, alright?" Francis said.

He stumbled over his next words, but was interrupted by the soft sound of knocking on the hotel door. Bill frowned and made his way across the bedroom toward the doorway into the living area.

With no warning whatsoever, a large and stocky figure appeared in the doorway. The cone of Bill's flashlight illuminated the bared teeth, the wild eyes, the blood splattered all the way down his front.

The large man screamed in blind rage and tackled Bill through the doorway, back into the bedroom with a crash.

"Holy fuck!" Francis shouted.

He shone his light back toward the doorway to see two more gaunt figures appear. Before he could squeeze the trigger, the nearest infected woman knocked the MP5 out of his hands and then scratched him across the face.

"Ah, you _bitch_!" he roared.

Before he knew what was happening, the attackers were all over him.

* * *

><p>Zoey just about jumped a mile in the air when she heard sudden shouts and screams on the other side of the hotel door. However, before she could do anything about it, two doors burst open further down the hall. She snapped her flashlight up to see a man and woman bearing down on her, their faces contorted with rage. They hauled themselves down the hallway at her, leaving bloody handprints on the once-pristine white walls.<p>

The young woman whipped up her pistol, and the subsequent muzzle-flash illuminated the forerunner's brains splattering across the wall as his body crumpled face-down. However, the offender behind was on her before she could realign her aim and, to her horror, the gun was knocked from her hand.

The infected woman screeched in rage and her hands closed in around her prey's neck. Zoey gasped in pain as she was hauled to her feet and then thrown against the wall, the hands around her neck tightening.

* * *

><p>Bill lay on his back on the floor of the suite bedroom, pinned under the immense weight of a man who, at that moment, was doing his utmost to sink his teeth into the war veteran's jugular. His M4 carbine had been thrown clear across the room, and he was unable to reach for his sidearm, courtesy of his arms being otherwise occupied holding the insane man back.<p>

Francis was not faring much better, having being scratched several times across his face and arms by the two infected women in the room. His hand shot down and drew the Beretta 92 from his holster. A muzzle-flash momentarily lit up the room and the death snarl of the nearest banshee, a sizzling hole in her face.

However, he was immediately tackled by the other woman, the pistol wrested from his grip. He was thrown backward against the wall and roared in pain when she bit into his forearm, drawing blood.

* * *

><p>"Holy shit!" Louis exclaimed to the sounds of gunshots, one of which happened just outside the safe-room. He cast a longing glance at the machine pistol sitting on the safe-room table in dismantled pieces. <em>Goddamn it, they <em>have_ to go and get attacked while my Glock's being cleaned…_

He swung open the steel door, leading with his SIG-Sauer and flashlight.

The young man was immediately met with a pair of dead white eyes.

His knee-jerk reaction of pulling the trigger saved his life. The Common Infected just outside the door convulsed and fell, an exit-wound through the cranium.

Louis took a moment to regather his wits and comprehensible thought, before stepping out into the hallway, legs spread wide, pistol held in a firm two-handed grip. He immediately caught sight of Zoey being held up against the wall by a raging woman. He rushed forward, pressed his SIG-Sauer to the attacker's head and fired.

Zoey took a deep breath of air and rubbed her neck. "Thanks, Louis. You saved my life."

"Don't mention it. Where are the others?"

The former college girl stooped to recollect her fallen pistol and motioned toward a closed door. "Something's going down behind there. Cover me and make sure nothing comes in behind me."

Louis nodded and pressed his back up to the wall, holding his pistol up near his head and keeping watch in both directions for any more Common Infected that may appear. Zoey, for her part, held her gun to the door's keyhole and fired twice, annihilating the lock.

She pushed the door open and rushed into the suite, hearing the sounds of struggle coming from the bedroom. Upon reaching the doorway, her flashlight found Bill, pinned under a particularly bulky male. She let out a cry and delivered a hard kick to the man's chest, knocking him off Bill. The infected man's head snapped up to face her, his eyes wild and livid. He opened his mouth to roar in anger, but never got the chance as Zoey shot him through the eye.

Meanwhile, Francis grappled with the woman who had him up against the wall and managed to pry her off his arm. With a surge of adrenaline, he spun her around and threw her against the window. The glass shattered and the infected woman let out a cry as she stumbled through it and out into the dark evening sky, falling eight storeys straight down.

"Are you guys alright?" Zoey asked breathlessly.

"Yeah… thanks," Bill answered shakily, climbing to his feet.

"Francis, you're hurt," she said, noticing that he was grasping his arm as blood oozed from the wound.

"I'll be fine," he said dismissively.

"Come on, let's get you patched up," she insisted. "Louis and I found a first-aid pack in the safe-room, on the body of an army medic. Let's go, before more people show up."

"What happened?" Bill cut in. "Were you two attacked?"

"Yeah... I was ambushed in the hallway." Zoey grimaced as she recalled the bloodthirsty madness in her attacker's eyes as she was throttled. It was something she would likely never get used to. The young woman jerked involuntarily when she felt Bill's hand on her shoulder, turning her back to face him.

"Were you bitten?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Zoey, were you bitten? Or scratched?"

"Uh, no," she answered, checking herself over.

Bill visibly breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness."

* * *

><p><em>12.5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Later on, the two suitcases of clothes had been dragged back to the safe-room. While Bill treated Francis' injuries, Louis scavenged a pair of jeans and a white polo shirt. Apparently, no matter the situation, the man had style.

Zoey, having made the guys turn around while she changed, found herself a clean short-sleeved white shirt and a pair of dark jeans. However, she elected to keep her red track jacket – it had been part of her uniform when she was on the women's field hockey team in college. It was silly, but the jacket helped to serve as a reminder of better times, and she preferred to hang onto it. Besides, it was not _that_ dirty – just a few dirt-marks here and there –

Her train of thought was cut off by a strange noise that issued from the radio's speaker without warning. Bill rushed over to the table and began to adjust the dials until he finally found the right frequency.

_"– lost east sector of the terminal to the Infected. Falling back to the runway."_

Horrible screams and gunfire could be heard in the background.

_"We need backup and heavy fire support _now_!"_ a different voice shouted. _"There's a fucking twelve foot tall _monster _tearing through our ranks!"_

Bill and the others exchanged glances. Just what the hell was going on over there? He seriously started to wonder if going to the airport was the right idea. But then again, it was the only plan they had at present.

He waited for a few more minutes, but no more transmissions came through the radio. He picked up the microphone. "This is William Overbeck, broadcasting from the Harbour View Hotel. Can anyone read me? Over."

There was a moment of silence, before a crackled voice came through. _"Lieutenant Robinson, is that you? Over."_

"Robinson is dead, son," Bill replied, identifying the man next to the radio by his dog-tags. "I'm all you've got."

_"If you aren't Lieutenant Robinson, then you aren't authorised to be on this channel,"_ the voice answered coldly. _"Clear off – we need to keep this line open for official traffic."_

"I am broadcasting from the Harbour View Hotel – your garrison here is dead. I have three more civilians with me and we are requesting asylum, sir."

_"…The Harbour View Hotel? You'll have to speak with Captain Williams – he's in charge of this base. Broadcast again in thirty seconds."_

Bill nodded at the others. They were finally getting somewhere. He waited exactly thirty seconds before speaking into microphone again. "Captain Williams. I am sorry to intrude on your channel like this. My name is Sergeant William Overbeck, and I have three more civilians with me. Over."

There was a hiss of static, before –

_"What?!"_ a new voice barked. _"Who the fuck are you? Over!"_

Zoey was taken aback by how stressed the man on the other side of the radio sounded. Francis looked testily over at Bill while the man in question raised the microphone again.

"My name is Sergeant William Overbeck, and I have three other civilians with me. We are requesting asylum. Over."

_"Sergeant Overbeck, unless you're flying a C-130 Hercules-sized escape vehicle, I don't want to talk to you right now. Take a seat and take a fucking number."_

"Listen to me, _boy_," Bill practically snarled. "Isn't it your job to protect the public? I want you to give us some goddamned instructions right now, or when I crawl my way out of this mess – and you mark my words that I will – I'm gonna personally find your commander and chew him out for a piss-poor effort. Over!"

_"Is that so?"_ Captain Williams' voice sounded less than impressed. _"Let me tell you something, _sir_. You missed the evacuation by over five days."_

Five days…? Zoey took a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, lest she lose her shit _completely_.

_"What you've stumbled onto is the tail-end of a lost battle,"_ Williams continued. _"We're pulling out. So unless you can get your asses to the airport by 0530 hours tomorrow morning, there won't be anyone left in Newburg that can help you. Over."_

"That's… news to us," Bill finally answered, at a loss of anything else to say.

"_There's something else you should know. If you can't get to the airport in time, then get the hell out of the city. Since we were unable to retake it, the failsafe will be in effect. Be advised – it is in your best interests not to be in or anywhere near Newburg after dawn tomorrow morning. Over."_

The old man's frown deepened. "What is this 'failsafe' you're talking about exactly? Over."

"_There are a number of refugee camps in the area, and it's too dangerous to leave an entire city full of the Infected which could threaten them. To this end, the failsafe will be executed at 0600 hours – an entire squadron of F-16 fighters loaded with high-ordnance bombs. If you're caught on the ground when they get here, you're fucked."_

The group had not thought it possible, but their night had just become a whole lot worse.

_"What?"_ Lous exclaimed. "They're going to level the entire city? I don't believe this!"

_Fucking army,_ Francis thought to himself. _Bunch of useless prats._

"We'll make our way to the airport," Bill spoke into the radio. "Where can we meet up with you? Over."

_"Our defence is focused around the main runway,"_ Williams answered. _"Make your way there. Over."_

"Got it," he answered. He made to start gathering their supplies together, when the captain's voice spoke out again.

_"While you're out there, I have to ask… Have you seen any of my men downtown?"_

The four survivors glanced warily around the room at the grisly remains of the army personnel, before Bill spoke into the mouthpiece again.

"No one alive, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

_"…I was afraid of that. Good luck, and Godspeed. Over and out."_

Without a word, Bill gathered their remaining food into the backpack and handed it to Louis, before gearing up. The others followed by example, and were soon ready to depart.

"We stay on-route, and we'll get to that power-plant Zoey mentioned soon," he announced. "I saw it earlier in the map book."

"What about all the Infected out in the streets?" Francis pointed out tersely.

"They should have lost our scent by now. We stay low, and keep quiet."

"If all else fails, we have the safe-room to fall back on," Louis offered, in an effort to raise spirits.

"If all else fails, we'll be zombie chow." Bill tossed the red first-aid pack across the room over to Francis, and then lifted his assault rifle. "We'd better get moving. We have some ground to cover."


	51. Chapter 50: The Construction Site

**Chapter 50: The Construction Site**

* * *

><p><em>12.25 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Darkness surrounded the group as they carefully made their way down the stairwell just outside the safe-room. The four flashlights were unable to penetrate the inky blackness very far, and the team was very much on edge despite the slight reprieve they had in the panic room.

It probably did not help matters that they had been ambushed by the Infected in the hallway, and then learned that the heart of the city they were in was set to be levelled in just over twelve hours.

No pressure, right?

In addition to the total darkness and threat of attack that filled the atmosphere, Louis had not been enjoying the oppressive silence that hung over the hotel when they set out. But after they passed what must have been the third floor down, another more haunting sound drifted from somewhere above, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

Horrible and grief-stricken crying could be heard echoing off the walls.

The young man gulped and glanced upward, his gun-hand trembling in spite of himself. "Jesus. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Agreed," Francis grunted.

Zoey, however, stood irresolute for a few moments, blocking Bill's way forward as he brought up the rear. "This isn't right," she finally said.

"What do you mean?" Francis asked, glancing back up at her over his shoulder.

"What if it isn't one of those… Witches up there? What if it's someone who's hurt? Or if there's a little girl who's all alone?"

"Zoey, we can't afford to have a bleeding heart," Bill said, irritation in his tone.

"But what if there's someone up there who needs our help?" she protested, her voice rising slightly. "We're abandoning them without a second thought!"

"We don't have time for this horseshit," he said gruffly. He planted himself squarely in the middle of the winding staircase, blocking the former college girl's way back up the stairs. "I'm not about to let you go up there and investigate a sound which has a ninety percent chance of leading you to a monster which would tear you limb from limb!"

"A _fifty_ percent chance!"

"How many crying girls have we encountered in the past few weeks that are still human?! It's a _ninety_ percent chance! Probably _more_!"

"Yeah…" Louis interjected quietly. "Have you forgotten about the claws on those Witches, Zoey?"

The woman in question was frankly quite surprised and appalled. Was this what they had come to? Abandoning what could be a person in dire need of help without hesitation?

"Let me go up," she said, her tone determined. "I'll check it out myself."

"No," the old man replied.

"Let me up, Bill!"

"The answer is no. You're not going to go and risk your life on some noble crusade. Not on my watch." When Zoey refused to back down, so did he. "Start moving. I won't ask again."

Aside from the lonely sobs in the air, the stairwell was silent. After what seemed like an eternity, the young woman clenched her teeth and tightened her grip on the butt of her pistol as she whirled and marched away down the stairs. She pushed her way past Francis to take point, wanting nothing more at that moment than to be as far away from Bill as humanly possible.

No more words were exchanged within the group for the rest of the way down. Unbeknown to the others, Bill cast a longing glance back up the stairs, before he sighed and turned to follow the others.

No more words were exchanged between him and Zoey for quite some time after that.

* * *

><p><em>12 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Newburg was well into the evening by the time the survivors left the hotel, emerging from the stairwell into a narrow alleyway lined by tall and ugly buildings. The sky was dark, although sinister orange glows could be seen in the distance in several directions, from what could no doubt be huge fires.

Zoey started off down the alleyway toward the street in front of the hotel, but was pulled back by Francis' beefy hand.

"You're way too pissed off to be taking point at the moment," he said. "Let me."

She frowned at him, but stood aside and allowed him to take the lead nevertheless. The burly biker carefully led the way to the edge of the hotel, where he paused and peered around the corner, before waving Bill over.

"Shitloads of Infected all over the street," he reported. "What should we do?"

The war veteran frowned, before looking the other way. "If we circle back around the block, we'll be able to cross the road further up. Since they were all drawn toward the hotel by the Boomer stink on us, there should be less for us to deal with the further away we get."

"That's assuming they haven't already dispersed in the time we took inside the safe-room," the younger man argued.

"You got a better idea?" Bill said, bristling slightly.

Unfortunately for Francis' pride, he did not. Without a word, he hefted his submachine gun, turned and moved down the alleyway in the opposite direction, shoulders hunched forward. The others followed suit, moving silently as a single unit past bullet-riddled dumpsters and corpses, in various states of decay. The acrid smell assaulted everyone's sinuses, although they were too much on edge to comment. Partly because of the overwhelming presence of the Infected very nearby. Partly because of the twelve hour deadline they now knew of.

And partly because of the tension in the group.

They presently rounded the far corner of the hotel and turned north, following a narrow laneway of sorts behind the hotel. Dark loading docks lined both sides of the path, and a storm-drain ran parallel to the narrow single-lane road.

Straggling Common Infected stood here and there, facing the walls in silent contemplation of god-knows-what. Their thoughts were suddenly and permanently ceased by Bill's rough hands brutally twisting their heads sideways before releasing them to fall to the ground, their necks broken.

The ones that did notice them coming were too out of it to even cry out in surprise before they caught a bullet to the head, courtesy of Francis' Beretta 92. Whenever this happened, he looked around warily, as if he was afraid that the occasional gunshot would draw in a horde that would sweep over them like an unstoppable wave.

Louis stole a glance upward every now and then, as though he expected bombs to begin raining from the dark sky at any minute.

Fortunately, neither of these things happened.

Zoey and Bill's faces were unreadable, except for whenever he glanced back and caught her eye. Whenever this happened, she scowled and looked away.

The laneway soon emerged into a large construction site, neatly concentrated around a network of steel beams that would never be continued, bags of cement that would never be mixed and equipment that would never be used again, all overlooked by a wooden foreman's tower. Various floodlights that somehow still had power lit up the area, although shadowy recesses were still present everywhere.

Francis grimaced. He _hated_ construction sites – they offered too many possible hiding places for the Infected.

Wordlessly, Zoey holstered her pistol, pulled the Winchester 70 from its strap on her shoulder, and had it loaded in less than five seconds. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and the others nodded in approval, taking up positions behind makeshift barricades of aggregate bags and concrete barriers to cover her.

The fiery young woman recalled the hunting trips her father had taken her on years ago, and she was starting to feel just as comfortable with the rifle now as she did back then. She centred the crosshairs of the scope on the head of one unfortunate individual milling back and forth on the far side of the area.

_BLAM!_

The gunshot sounded deafening in the quiet. As the infected man tumbled to the ground, never to move again, the group waited in anticipation for the noise to draw other threats out of hiding. However, after a full minute, nothing and no one appeared.

"Alright, let's go through this construction yard, and then we can cross the street to the power station on the other side," Bill said as he stalked forward, leading with Colt M4.

However, no sooner had they made their way into the middle of the site that the silence was again suddenly shattered by a chorus of enraged shrieks as a score of people appeared from shadowy corners (and goddamn it, Louis could have sworn that he heard the cry of a Hunter as well). Hammering staccato rose up in answer, and flashes of light filled the construction site as the combined pulse of hot lead from the assault carbine, HK MP5 and Glock 18 slammed into heads and chests, sending blood and brain-matter spraying into the air.

Bill adamantly refused to believe that the Common Infected could have set a trap, even though the ambushers had clearly waited until their prey was out of cover before revealing themselves, and attacking from multiple directions. They could not have possibly retained such a high brain function.

And if they had… well, that was a _very_ upsetting thought.

Sweat beaded Zoey's brow as she fired off several more shots from the Winchester. Three infected people went down in a row as a single one of her high-calibre bullets penetrated their bodies, one after another. The Infected were closing in fast. She cast down the rifle and drew her SIG-Sauer, the pistol barking as she aimed and fired in quick succession, dropping a multitude of attackers.

Something detached itself from the shadows and flung itself at them with a bloodthirsty scream. A round of automatic gunfire stopped it in its tracks and a body crumpled to the ground, dark blood pooling around it.

"Nice shot, old man!" Francis yelled over the gunfire.

"Shut up and shoot!" he shouted back.

It was not a huge crowd which attacked them by any means, but the Common Infected ducked and weaved masterfully behind cover, causing many of their bullets to slam harmlessly into steel girders and bags of aggregate, sending puffs of grey dust billowing into the air.

"I'm low on ammo!" Francis bellowed.

At that moment, a trio of bloodthirsty assailants leapt over a pile of forgotten construction equipment and made a beeline for him, screaming bloody murder. His ensuing burst of gunfire consumed his third-to-last clip. Fortunately, the last of the bodies slumped to the ground around him, and the construction site fell silent once more.

"Fuck me…" Louis breathed.

"If you ask me, they'll be doin' the country a favour when they bomb this city," Bill muttered, reloading his assault rifle. He glanced at his watch: six-thirty in the evening. Still over eleven hours until the F-16 fighters arrived. "C'mon," he said, starting toward the far side of the construction-made-massacre site. "We've wasted a lot of time, and the army isn't gonna wait for us forever."

Louis shifted his weight slightly in a vain attempt to make the heavy load on his back more comfortable. The backpack was positively-laden with food, weapon supplies, and now some spare clothes scavenged from the couple's suitcases back in the hotel. It was a major pain in the ass, although he supposed he would much rather be wishing that the bag was lighter instead of wishing it was heavier.

Zoey slung the Winchester rifle back over her shoulder and begrudgingly started after Bill. She gazed over the multitude of slumped and stricken bodies – a host of sick and out-of-mind people, murdered by their hand. She was still angry with the way the old man had so callously refused to even check to see if it was indeed a person who needed help back in the Harbour View Hotel. The young woman liked to think that if she could help to save someone – _anyone_ – in this mess, it could help her to atone for the atrocities she committed down the barrel of a gun.

She could not help but remember what the old man had said before, back in that little convenience store in Fairfield a week ago: _"You'll have to do some bad things before this is all over… We'll all have to, if we want to stay alive."_

What were they willing to sacrifice, just to survive?

"I'm sorry," she said slowly to the graveyard that surrounded her. "I really am."

Unbeknown to the team of survivors, a pair of gleaming white eyes watched them from nearby, just outside of the range of the floodlights in the construction site. Genetic mutation in a person's body due to the Green Flu causes, among other things, an additional muscle to develop in each eye to help control the dilation and contraction of the pupil.

At this moment in time, the observer's pupils were fully open, casting the world in a hazy orange hue. However, four organisms held their attention. The calculating brain analysed and determined three tall figures, one of which was rather stocky. The fourth, however, was shorter than the others and more petite – a lighter and easier target.

A savage hiss escaped from the predator's lips as it vanished into the darkness.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

If I was directing the _Left 4 Dead_ movie, there would have to be a scene where Francis says, "Same shit, different verse." This would then be followed by a montage of the survivors making their way through the streets, picking off zombies while _Mr. Blue Sky_ by Electric Light Orchestra plays over the top.

…It's probably a good thing I'm not in charge of making the _L4D_ movie.


	52. Chapter 51: Turning Point

**Chapter 51: Turning Point**

* * *

><p><em>11.5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Smoke rose over the buildings as the city of Newburg burned, its streets choked in the hazy orange glow of the gathering twilight. Four ant-like figures peered cautiously out from the end of an alleyway to see a (sadly) now-common scene of carnage – the headlights of abandoned or overturned cars littered the street in one direction, while the menacing figures of hundreds of Infected could be seen further up the street the other way.

"That must be where we came out from the Harbour View Hotel," Bill whispered. He gripped his rifle and motioned for Francis to lead them across the road. "This way."

The group quickly crossed the street, covering each other, and entered a darkened area, the earthy ground spotted with weedy clumps of grass here and there. Huge pieces of machinery and antennae-looking devices were clustered throughout the area, surrounded by chain-link fences.

"I've always thought these power-plant gizmos look creepy," Francis said, sparing a glance around.

"It's a substation," Zoey chimed in.

"What's that?"

"Well, the power that comes out of a power-plant is too high a voltage for normal household appliances, so substations convert the electricity back down to a useable voltage." Realising how nerdy she sounded, she shrugged. "Or something like that."

"How'd you know that?" Louis asked, sounding impressed.

The young woman smirked. "Just one of many useless tidbits of info I have to offer."

"Maybe you can shed some light on why Louis is so bald or why Bill is so old," Francis cracked from his position, crouched down near one of the fences.

"Quit screwin' around," the gruff voice of the man in question berated the biker as he came over to join them. "A Hunter could've jumped us while you lot were crackin' jokes."

"Calm your farm," Zoey spitefully expressed. "We're just having some fun."

Bill narrowed his steely grey eyes, finding the challenge to his authority highly irritating. Did they all think this was some kind of game? "We got time to have fun, we got time to haul ass." He levelled his Colt M4 forward and moved off into the gloom without another word, Zoey scowling after him.

The grim industrial station was shrouded in a murky darkness, pierced by four flashlights and occasionally broken by the muzzle-flash of a pistol. Blood and gore sprayed into the air as the heads and chests of the occasional straggling Common Infected were assailed by bullets. The tall spires of the substation antennae and machinery, coupled with the chain-link fences, gave rise to a claustrophobic setting, and one which Bill was decidedly not happy with. Claustrophobic was _not_ the way one wanted to feel when faced with the possibility of wall-to-wall Infected between them and the airport. Not to mention a Hunter could jump these fences in a single bound no problem.

As the group was marching toward a row of maintenance shacks, lit up by a large lighting tower which somehow still had power, he held up a palm, signalling for the group to stop. He and Francis took to inspecting the bodies of some army personnel lying in the shadows for anything useful, the argument which had flared up between the two men in the hotel brushed to one side for the moment. There were more important things to worry about right now.

While this was happening, Louis and Zoey kept a vigilant watch back the way they came, SIG-Sauers primed and ready. They did not know that danger lurked not behind, but above.

"For the record," Louis said quietly, "I would've gone with you to see if it was a survivor back in the hotel."

Zoey grimaced, the haunting sound of crying still echoing her mind. A fresh flash of anger flared up inside her, even as she tried to convince herself that they were doing the right thing. "Bill was probably right," she finally offered. "If we'd run into a Witch, we would've been screwed. It's probably better if we keep a low profile."

Her friend quirked an eyebrow at this. "But you don't believe that, do you?"

"Of course not!" she vented quietly, lowering her pistol to look at him directly. "If everyone thought the same way, there wouldn't be a country united against the Infected anymore, just selfish people looking out for themselves."

"Bill ain't selfish. He's just doing what he thinks is right."

"I know. It's just…" Zoey sighed, brushing a strand of dark-brown hair out of her face. "I'm not sure if Bill's heart is in the right place when it comes to outsiders anymore. Not after what happened with the Slaters."

She could see Bill had come to care for their little group, and her in particular, greatly. After everything that had happened in the past few horrible weeks, she had come to depend on him and trust him completely. Her being knocked out, tied up and held hostage by the Slaters had obviously shaken Bill more than she thought. Despite his gruff exterior, there had always been a warmness underneath. Zoey knew it was still there, only it was now boarded up behind a cold, hard drive to get them all to safety, and to hell with anyone else.

She did not like the changes she was seeing in the old man.

"Don't worry, once we get rescued by the army, everything will be better," Louis' voice cut into her thoughts. He shot her a reassuring smile. "I promise."

Zoey returned the smile, once again finding herself appreciating how the man's upbeat attitude could always brighten her mood. "Thanks, Louis. You've always been a good friend in all this. In fact, you're probably my best friend now."

Before he could reply, an awful slurping noise echoed around them.

_SHLKT!_

Something wrapped tightly around her, and she thought one of the others was grabbing her for some reason. Next thing she knew, she was off her feet and being slammed into the side of one of the surrounding buildings, her senses stunned and dazed. Why was she being dragged up a building…?

_"Smoker's got Zoey!"_ she heard Louis' voice shout out from somewhere down below.

Gunfire rang out, but she was pulled up and over the roof, and still the tentacle-like tongue constricted her tightly, not allowing her to reach for any of her guns.

_Oh, god._

She could not twist around to see what had her, but she could hear it breathing, rasping, right behind her. As she regained her senses, she struggled desperately against the beast's hold, but shrieked when she felt a ragged claw slash across her face, and the warm sensation of blood trickling down her cheek.

Her blood.

That was nothing compared to what happened next. Zoey screamed in pain when she felt the sharp stabbing of _teeth_ sinking into her skin. It was utter agony, and she struggled more violently, but that only increased the terrible pain at the base of her neck. The tentacle snaked tighter around her throat, cutting off her oxygen. She started to gag, and for the second time in two days, the edges of her vision faded to black.

This was it. She was going to die. That was the only coherent thought she could manage in her current state of mind, her lungs failing her.

The next thing she knew, she slumped over, her head hitting the rooftop hard, but she barely registered the shock. The former college student's focus was completely muddled, hazed and racked with pain. The air was filled with smoke, and she was vaguely aware of four fits of coughing somewhere nearby. It took her a moment to comprehend that one of them was her own. Her lungs – previously starved of oxygen – were now filled with the acrid green smoke, and the sudden shift made her feel sick.

Bill led the way out onto the rooftop of the maintenance building, his pistol held forward in case there were any more of the long-tongued bastards around. The hazy smoke clouded the air, obscuring his vision, which only added to his panic when he could not see Zoey right away.

When she had been snatched, the wily old man charged right into the building and up two flights of stairs while horrible screams erupted above him. He cursed the whole time – the damn Smoker, the bloody stairs, Louis for not paying attention. He was not going to lose anyone. Not on his watch.

His heart leapt into his mouth when Louis' voice rang out, "She's over here!"

The prone form of the girl stirred when she heard the vaguely familiar voice, and looked up, her vision blurred and bleary. Why did everything hurt so much?

"Hey, Zoey," Louis' anxious face appeared through the smoke, a hand held over his mouth.

"She's bleeding," Bill said worriedly. He nodded to Francis. "You carry her. We gotta find some shelter while we patch her up."

The biker scooped her up in his arms without a word, and then they made their way over the roof and back inside the building. Zoey's vision was swimming. She opened her mouth to try and warn them what had happened, but was hit with a sudden wave of nausea.

"Hey." Francis gave her a rough shake, jarring her. "Stay awake."

Ohhhhhh, she was going to puke if he kept jostling her like that. Her head was throbbing like hell, she felt dizzy and disoriented, and ready to throw up. Were these the symptoms someone felt right before they turned…?

"Through here!" Bill said, leading them into a small and cluttered storage room. "How's she doing, Francis?"

"She's not lookin' so hot," came the gruff reply. "Come on, Zoey, stay with me," he growled, giving her another shake.

"Stop it…" she muttered, squinting her eyes open. Why was she even being carried? What happened…? Her vision was blurred and she couldn't really see anything anyway, so she closed her eyes, only to be jostled again. The asshole really needed to stop shaking her like that.

"Set her down over here," Bill instructed, sweeping aside the clutter on a wooden table against one wall while Louis closed and barricaded the door.

Francis quickly made his way across the room, ignoring the low groans of protest coming from the limp form in his arms. As soon as he set her down on the table, her eyelids drooped, but he snapped his fingers in her face, startling her awake again.

"That Smoker gave off a lot of gas," Bill said, opening the medical pack. "I hope that stuff ain't poisonous."

_Wait… Smoker…?_ In a rush of recollection, Zoey remembered what happened. She had to warn them! "Guys," she said in a thick voice. "I've been bitten – " The rest of her sentence was cut off as she leaned over the side of the table and vomited on the floor.

"Oh, _shit_," Louis breathed.

Bill surveyed her grimly. She had a nasty bump on her head where she had fallen… and there was a scratch across her cheek, as well as a nasty-looking bite on her shoulder, near the base of her neck. The wound was bleeding considerably…

_Oh, no…_

"She's been bit," Francis growled, instantly alert. "_And_ scratched."

The war veteran took a deep breath in an attempt regain his composure. He had almost lost her when she nearly drowned, but now she had been bitten by an infected man. And she was displaying some very worrying symptoms…

"She's going to be okay…" Louis murmured, although he certainly did not believe his own words.

"Keep an eye on her," Bill said, bringing the first-aid pack toward the table.

The younger man nodded unhappily. Why was he always being put on 'Watch Friends In Case They Turn and Shoot Them If They Do' duty?

"Zoey, I'm going to patch up you up. You hang in there, kid."

Everything that was being said to her was lost in the haze, drowned out by a shrill ringing in her ears.

She could not believe it. After how far they had come, after everything they had been through together, it was going to end like this?

_Well… it could be worse… I could have been ripped apart by that Smoker. At least now I'll die surrounded by friends…_

_ Not die… Driven mad by the Infection, only to be shot by the people who used to be my friends a few seconds later…_

Those were her last thoughts before she lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Apologies for the delay in updating this story. My mind has been focused on work and other stuff lately, and the amount of time I get to just sit down and write has been dwindling lately.

It's a shame that this archive has been a bit less lively. Although I've seen a few interesting-looking L4D fics which I look forward to getting stuck into.

And yes, there are a few fan-made L4D movies out there. These are ones I'd suggest looking into:

www DOT youtube DOT com/watch?v=sEnMN02d1E8

www DOT facebook DOT com/Left4DeadMovie?ref=ts&fref=ts


	53. Chapter 52: Awakening

**Chapter 52: Awakening**

* * *

><p>Bright lights…<p>

An echoing voice…

Searing pain.

"…Zoey…? …Zoey…"

The girl in question raised a hand to her head, wincing when she jostled a bump on her forehead, above her left eyebrow. The reflex action sent a fresh wave of pain and nausea rushing through her, but luckily she managed to hold onto what was left of her meagre dinner.

"Whoa, easy there, girl," Louis said in a concerned voice, coming over to kneel down beside her. "You took a nasty fall earlier."

It was then that Zoey realised she was lying on the floor, a measly collapsed cardboard box as her mattress. The group's first-aid kit lay open near her, and she could feel bandages on her left cheek and her shoulder, near the base of her neck. The latter wound hurt the most – a dull throbbing sensation radiated out from it, interspersed with sharp jabs of pain if she tried to move too much.

"What happened?" she finally asked, giving up and lying back down on her 'bed'. "Where are Francis and Bill?" Her voice was still thick and slurred, and her tongue felt dry, like a cotton wad in her mouth.

"It's okay," the young man replied soothingly, apparently having not learned that patronisation did not make for good bedside manner. "They want off to make a quick sweep for supplies while you were unconscious. You've been out for over an hour."

He handed her a water bottle, which she took several greedy gulps from, quenching her parched and dry throat. She immediately started to feel less nauseous and disoriented.

"You seemed to stabilise a few minutes after you passed out, which we took as a good sign," Louis continued, almost speaking more to himself than to her. As if he was in a debate with himself. The gun in his hand, ready to be fired at a moment's notice, did not escape Zoey's attention. "All that worrying stuff – the vomiting, light sensitivity, loss of hearing – Bill reckons it was caused by a mixture of concussion and exposure to the smoke."

The former college girl nodded slowly, resisting the urge to feel the bump on her head again.

"Hell, _I_ felt a bit sick after all that Smoker gas we inhaled," her friend said, shooting her a wary smile. "If you were gonna turn, you probably would have done so by now, back when all that freaky shit was happening to you while you were on the table."

"So… what? You guys think I'm immune? Like the rest of you?" The cautious relief which had flooded through her when she had found out that Bill and Francis were immune to the Green Flu almost paled in comparison to the idea that she could be too. That she would not turn into a maddened, rabies-bearing banshee, driven by a primal instinct to feed and kill.

That she would not be responsible for hurting someone when she was not in her right mind.

Louis seemed equally pleased. "Well, yeah. Francis warned me to keep an eye on you while they were out, but I've got a good feelin' about this. Your rationality seems to be intact."

It was then that the door crashed open, startling both of them and causing Louis to raise his pistol. However, it was Francis who bounded through the door, Bill bringing up the rear.

"Damn it, Francis, can't you open the door like a normal goddamn person?" the old man growled. His eyes widened when he saw the youngest member of the group awake. "Zoey! How are you feeling?"

"Uh, fine, I guess," she mumbled. "A sore neck, but that's about it."

"You're lucky that's all you have," Francis grunted. "That thing was just about to tear your throat out." Was that worry in his expression?

"Do you still feel like... yourself?" Bill asked hesitantly.

When Zoey nodded gingerly, the icy weights of worry around his heart evaporated, to be replaced by intense relief. His heavy emotional burdens had blown up tenfold when the girl had been lying there, choking and vomiting, and the prospect of having to put a bullet through her head had frightened him more than facing down a horde of Infected a mile wide.

But she was okay – for the moment, at least. That was what mattered.

It was Louis who voiced what was on everyone's minds. "So I'm thinking, either we're immune from all this, or we're gettin' real lucky."

"Four immunes in the same room," the grizzled war veteran muttered, sitting down on the table. "What're the odds?"

"How does that work, though?" Zoey asked as she sat up, wincing at a stab of pain that shot through her neck. "I mean, how are we immune? We've seen a grand total of, what, seven other people since Fairfield. Two of them definitely weren't immune..." Recollections of the looks of primal rage and animalistic fury in the eyes of Joe and the doomed helicopter pilot flashed through her mind. "Why have _we_ survived, when so many others have been infected?"

"Maybe it's a reminder that there's more to life than gettin' the next pay-check, being promoted, and pleasin' a bunch of corporate douchebags," Franics grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. "I hate corporate douchebags."

"I'd think of it more as natural selection," Bill said, a grim expression on his face. "Back in Mercy Hospital, Roger mentioned that everyone reacted differently to the virus. We're the lucky ones." Their predicament – holed up in a crumbling building, sporting various injuries, in a city that had a date with destruction in a little over nine hours – came back to slap him in the face. "Then again, maybe not."

* * *

><p><em>5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Four and a half hours after Zoey woke up, the group was gearing up to continue their journey. Bill had insisted on the "downtime" to make sure that she was okay, despite her reassurance. Fortunately, with a handful of pain pills from the health pack, and sleeping as well as she could on her makeshift mattress, the throbbing in her neck felt considerably better.

"The airport's not too far off from here," the war veteran said, tossing the medical pack over to Louis and lifting his assault rifle, one of his last cigarettes hanging out of his mouth. "We keep quiet, don't stir up a horde, and hopefully things will go over a bit smoother than they have been ever since we set foot in this godforsaken town."

As Zoey turned to grab her hunting rifle, she found the old man picking it up and handing it over to her, a solemn expression on her face. "Everything okay, Bill?" she asked sheepishly, their argument a few hours ago still in the back of her mind.

"Yeah..." he replied, handing the gun over to her.

"What's wrong?" she pressed.

After a moment, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "That's the second time you've nearly been killed on my watch, and in two days, no less. I just want you to know that I ain't gonna let anything like that happen again."

"You don't have to make a promise like that. It'll be impossible to keep, anyway."

"Well I'll keep it or die trying!"

Zoey was startled by the old man's outburst, and she looked around the room to see the others staring in their direction.

"Uh, we'll go make sure the hallway outside is clear," Louis said in an unsure tone. He promptly left the storeroom, Francis on his heels.

As soon as the door closed, the former college student turned to him. "Bill, what the hell?"

"I meant what I said," he replied crisply, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and crushing it on the table. "You three are my responsibility." He stood, ready to leave this conversation behind him, but the young woman planted herself firmly in his way, the look in her eyes demanding to know what was on his mind. The veteran chuckled darkly at the irony of their positions being reversed a mere six hours later. "What do you want from me?" he snapped.

Zoey was taken aback by his rough tone, but hesitantly pressed on. "You've shut yourself behind a wall, and I need to know that you're still..."

"Still what?"

"...okay."

Bill's expression softened at her uncertain tone, and he sighed lightly, gesturing around. "Before all this happened – before the shit hit the fan – I was a hollow shell of the man I used to be. Two tours in Vietnam, a handful of medals and a knee full of shrapnel are what I had to show for the service I did for this country."

Zoey remained quiet, surprised that he was opening up to her. She had been able to piece bits and pieces of his personality together, but knew almost nothing of his past life.

"I spent decades drifting between dead-end jobs and shithole apartments," he continued, bitterness seeping into his tone. "But this... epidemic has given me a purpose again: to get you three to safety."

He was taken aback when Zoey threw her arms around him in a surprisingly strong hug. "Of all the people I got stuck with... I'm glad one of them is you," she said softly.

The old man returned the hug, rather awkwardly at first. "You know," he said hesitantly, "I've come to care for you like a daughter."

"I know, Bill." She had known for quite a while that she and Bill had, in many ways, a father-daughter relationship, and she was okay with it. Ever since those terrible events at the outbreak of the Infection, she never would have expected to find comfort, trust and companionship in a hardened man like Bill.

But find them she had.

"Aw, man, this is bullshit!" came a gruff voice from the doorway. "How come the old timer's gettin' all the play?"

"Shut up, Francis," the oldest and youngest members of the team shot back at the same time.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Thank you all for the reviews and comments so far. We are approaching the business end of 'Dead Air'. I hope you're excited! I'm not, as I still haven't figured out how exactly things are going to go down at the airport. But I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Feel free to leave a comment, review, flame, or what have you. Thank you for your time and have a great day.

* * *

><p>FEEDBACK:<p>

Guest(s):

C: "Hey! So it's been a while since you updated.. An update would be nice soon.. just saying"

A: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Not too much action, just some attempted character development on my part to prevent the cast of characters from becoming "static".

C: "This was amazing and funny this might not mean much but can't wait for the next chapterrr big fan of l4d"

A: You and me both.

C: "Sigh... WHERE'S THE GODDAMNED TANKS ALREADY! There'd better be one in the finale."

A: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about ole' Tanky. I'm sure he'll turn up at some point in the future. If you can spot it, there is actually some foreshadowing in 'Chapter 49: Skirmish in the Dark'.

The Grey Wolf Ghost:

C: "Excellent chapter, I know I've said it before, but you've captured this game so perfectly, you have brought it to life in such a great way. Keep up the great work and please as soon as you can! Thank you for such a great fic!"

A: Thank _you_ for such kind words, it's always nice to hear such comments.


	54. Chapter 53: The Sky Bridge

**Chapter 53: The Sky Bridge**

* * *

><p><em>4 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

The sky above Metro International Airport was stained a blood red and was choked with thick, dark smoke. Zoey found the view to be extremely ominous as she and her team made their way through the substation, surrounded by the dark outlines of power equipment, and to the streets on the other side.

She held her pistol down by her side, the metal cold in her hands. She did her best not to crane her neck instinctively, as such an action would rudely remind of her of the rather painful wound at the base of her neck. Francis brandished his Beretta, being low on ammunition for his submachine gun.

The nightmarish journey through Newburg had taken its toll on all of them, but now they were hopefully out of this hell. All they had to do was clear a path to the runway and link up with Captain Williams and his soldiers. Unfortunately, the further they made their way through the streets toward the airport, the scene did not spell a good fate for the defenders.

Zoey led the way forward into a familiar street , at the end of which she could see the outline of the main terminal of the airport. As she made her way forward, she came across a steadily increasing amount of grisly and broken remains of soldiers. Sandbags and M2 machine-gun emplacements stood forgotten at various positions in the street.

"Fuck me," Francis breathed. "All this firepower and the army still got swarmed? Bunch of useless dicks."

"You know, I've just about had enough of your insults toward the armed forces," the Vietnam War veteran shot over his shoulder in a dangerous tone, their argument from before still in the back of his mind. "They're riskin' their necks to get people out and save ingrates like you."

The biker simply frowned, choosing not to retaliate to the scolding or worthless patriotism.

The team came across an increasing number of Infected the closer they came to their destination, the fallen humans obviously drawn in toward the standoff. The tang of gunpowder and blood hung in the air.

As a headshot from Francis' Beretta rang, a nearby group of ten snarling Common Infected, startled by the noise, ran at him, only to be cut down by a withering burst from Bill's M4 carbine and Louis' Glock. The group crouched down by an overturned car and waited tensely for retaliation, but none of the menacing figures further up the road appeared to have taken notice of the commotion.

"This just ain't gonna work," Bill muttered angrily. They were so close, but if they continued as they were doing, the Infected would surely overwhelm and kill them. "We need a new plan. Any ideas?"

Zoey racked her brains, trying to remember everything she could about the airport when she was younger. "There's a car-park on the left side of this street. On the top level is a sky-bridge we could use to get into the airport from there."

"Good thinking," he nodded in approval. "Let's go."

With that, the four survivors slowly made their way down the ruined street with renewed purpose. They stepped carefully past mangled cars, corpses and army barricades, staying close to the low-rise buildings on the left side of the road. The closer they came to the airport, the more the air seemed to be choked with thick smoke. The heavy pit in Zoey's stomach grew larger the more they went on. She did not have a good feeling about this.

Presently, she came across the concrete facade of the building which she remembered to be the multistorey car-park. "Guys! Through here!" she whispered.

The young woman led the way up the ramp to the second level, past the shadowy forms of cars, the darkness growing deeper and more absolute the further they made their way into the structure. She was almost sad to leave behind the fiery orange twilight of the desolate streets. She slowly put one foot in front of the other, and was swallowed up by the darkness.

The four survivors walked forward, their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard. Bill brought up the rear, urging them silently onward. They were so damn close to salvation, and he refused to let anything stop them now.

Needless to say, he was stunned when Francis suddenly whirled and turned his gun on him. Had he lost his goddamn mind? "What the hell – "

"GET DOWN!" the biker roared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The war veteran complied and hit the deck, feeling the cement skin his palms. The gunshots above his head were deafening. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes widened as he saw a Hunter in mid-flight come crashing down as bullets from Francis' pistol slammed into its body.

Needless to say, everyone was shaken by the encounter. Horrible snarls echoed off the concrete and muzzle-flashes lit up the area as several dark figures ran at them from shadowy corners of the room. Gunpowder, sweat and blood filled the air, but the engagement was over quickly.

Bill reloaded his rifle and as sweat beaded down his brow. They were close to rescue, but that only meant that things were going to get harder. He noticed Zoey bending over slightly, a hand over her chest and breathing heavily. "You alright, kid?"

It took a few moments for her to answer. "Yeah, just feeling a bit light-headed... and short of breath."

"Don't forget that Smoker almost killed you not so long ago. _And_ you still have a concussion." He slung the M4 over his shoulder, came over to the girl's side and put one of her arms around his shoulder as he helped her to her feet. Louis and Francis took their places at their sides, covering them with their respective Glock and Beretta.

Zoey, helped along with Bill's support, hobbled toward the next ramp and they made their way up to the top.

They stopped when they came across another darkened room, this one much larger.

"You've gotta be shittin' me," the old man muttered.

"Someone give me a gun," Francis whispered. He holstered his pistol as Bill un-slung his assault rifle with one arm and handed it over to him.

"Now or never," Louis murmured quietly. He heard the stirring, slight shifting of feet and rustle of clothing all around them, but his flashlight could not penetrate the absolute darkness of the room to find the sources.

Zoey took a deep breath and led the way across the sea of inky blackness. The four survivors walked forward side-by-side, the only lights guiding them from the flashlights of their weapons. Their footsteps were swallowed by the darkness, which felt alive all around them.

However, a single point stood out to them in the gloom. It was a distant, far off light, coming through the glass of a covered pedestrian bridge, from the fires of the war-blasted landscape outside. They could see the sky-bridge.

As they made their way toward it, the flickering light suddenly vanished, and then reappeared a moment later. It was as though a silhouette had passed across it. Louis shone his flashlight in that direction, but saw nothing and no one.

But the sounds from the far recesses of the room – the muffled shifting, the quiet murmurs – remained. There was no telling how many of them were in here... with them.

A sudden and terrible scream tore its way through Louis' core and he swung his light around to see a gaunt, blood-covered woman bearing down on them from out of the shadows. His machine pistol spat flame as he unloaded a hail of bullets into her torso, dropping her in an instant.

However, the muzzle-flashes momentarily lit up most of the room. As soon as the light breached the darkness, Zoey was met with the scariest sight she had ever seen.

All around them, scattered throughout the room, were the haggard and hunched figures of the Infected. There must have been dozens upon _dozens_ of them. The loud burst of gunfire from Louis' pistol caught their attention, and, in one single terrifying instant, all pairs of eyes turned to them.

Absolute darkness immediately enveloped the room once more, but the four survivors could still feel the eyes of the huge crowd of Infected boring holes into them. There were several moments of silence, before enraged growls and screams began to echo throughout the darkened room.

Suddenly, with no idea anymore in which direction was the way out, Zoey found herself dashing, dead blind, across an endless black abyss.


	55. Chapter 54: The Terminal

**Chapter 54: The Terminal**

* * *

><p><em>3 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Pandemonium reigned in the multistorey car-park as howls and cries echoed all around Zoey and her team. She tried to stay close to Bill, but was pushed away when two Common Infected charged at him.

"Get to the sky-bridge!" he shouted as he fired a quick succession of shots from his SIG-Sauer, dropping the attackers. "I'll meet you there!"

Automatic bursts of gunfire felled the maddened humans in droves, but for every one that fell, two more took its place. Scattered muzzle-flashes momentarily lit up the immediate area as the group ran and fought for their lives through the darkened room.

Bill sorely wanted to arm his pipe-bomb, but using an explosive in such a tight area could easily damage a supporting pillar and cause the whole structure to collapse.

Francis and Louis coordinated their reloads and worked together to carve a path through the Infected rushing toward them, the latter growing seriously worried when he found that he was almost out of ammunition for the Glock 18. Zoey and Bill's SIG-Sauer's barked constantly, taking out anything that the first wave of gunfire missed. Despite their efforts, the Infected were about to overwhelm them from all directions, which pressed them with utmost urgency toward the sky-bridge.

"Keep moving!" Bill shouted as he ran.

Fumbling through the darkness, Zoey ran headlong into a car, gasping as she felt a bolt of pain shoot through her body. It took her a moment to realise that the shrill and blaring klaxon was the car alarm she had inadvertently triggered. She froze for a moment in terror when her flashlight showed a solid wall of Infected rushing toward her and the car.

She was completely fucked.

Abruptly, flowers of red burst from heads and chests of the group and they fell, revealing Francis standing behind them, gripping the still-smoking Colt M4. "This way!" he shouted, raising the rifle and opening fire again.

Zoey's legs felt like jelly, but she willed them to move. With all the maniacs rushing toward them, a single moment of hesitation could not be afforded.

However, in the bursts of light from weapons discharges, she could see that, for the some strange reason, the number of Common Infected between them and the exit did not seem quite as overwhelming as before. In fact, some even ran _past_ them, ignoring them completely. Everything made more sense when the former college student looked back and saw a mob of Infected fall upon the car, its lights still flashing and alarm still blaring. The sounds of windows being smashed and metal being mercilessly pounded joined the cacophony of hysterical shrieks and staccato gunfire.

She could hardly believe their luck – the obnoxious car alarm had actually drawn more attention from the Infected.

Louis fired an extended burst into the group in their way, consuming the last of his ammo but clearing a path. "Come on!" he shouted, breaking into a run.

The others followed him, pushing away any Infected that came too close, before stepping out onto the sky-bridge, several stories above the ruined streets below. A terrible metal screeching filled the air, and they spared a glance back to see the Infected roll the ruined and partially flattened car completely over. Their wild eyes darted around and came to rest... on them.

"Move! MOVE!" Bill shouted, just as the air was rent with the bloodthirsty cries of the horde.

The survivors ran across the bridge for their lives. There were simply too many pursuers for them to make any kind of stand. Halfway across, they came across a steel lattice security gate, collapsed and pushed into its holding slot on the side.

"Get that gate closed!" the war veteran shouted at the other men. "Kid, you're with me!"

She nodded, and stopped before the gate, unbelievably turning back to face her pursuers.

"Here!" Francis shouted as he tossed the M4 over to Bill, who caught it one-handed. He nodded quickly at Zoey, and then the two of them opened fire on the horde.

Blood splattered across the glass and bodies fell over each other. The steady flow of gunfire stemmed the Infected rushing at them as the sky-bridge became clogged with bullet-riddled corpses. Regardless, the Infected clawed their way through, desperate to tear the life from the humans who had the audacity to disturb their peace. Rage coursed through their very veins, and their angry screams echoed down the bridge.

"Get the door shut, quickly!" Zoey screamed, emptying her entire pistol clip into the crowd.

The clanking of metal on metal sounded as Louis and Francis pulled the latticed gate across the length of the corridor.

"Hurry up and get in!" he bellowed, squeezing off a few rounds from his Beretta.

The defenders turned and ran through the tight opening before the big biker slammed it shut and rammed the bolt home, securing it in place. It was only several seconds later that the horde _slammed_ into it, the steel gate buckling outward from the force. The Infected screamed, their arms outstretched through the gaps in the lattice.

"That ain't gonna hold 'em for long!" Bill shouted, slinging the assault rifle over his shoulder as he turned. He grabbed Zoey by the shoulder and pushed her along down the footbridge. "We gotta run!"

The survivors sprinted down the path, the pounding of their footsteps nearly drowned out by the infuriated growls and screams behind them. As she was running, Zoey spared a glance through the glass windows of the sky-bridge and was shocked by the scene before the entrance of the airport below. Countless mountains of rubble could be seen, scattered among shattered and burnt-out wreckages of cars and trucks. There was even a crashed Boeing _jumbo jet_ in the distance, fires still burning around it. The destruction on the ground below stretched as far as the eye could see.

To think that the Green Flu could have caused such devastation was beyond reckoning. It was completely _insane_.

"Come on, Zoey! Keep up!"

Bill's shout brought her mind back to the task at hand, and she put on a burst of speed, easily passing all three men. She skidded to a stop when she came across a darkened doorway and shone her flashlight through the opening.

A startled growl drifted out of the darkness, and she shot two Common Infected dead where they stood.

"Come on, this way!" she called, beckoning the men out onto the balcony above the foyer area of the airport terminal. "I have an idea!"

"About what?" Louis called.

"How to get away from those freaks behind us."

Almost as if on cue, there was a loud _CRASH_ as the security gate was ripped free of the wall by the people pounding on it, toppling to the floor. The Infected shrieked in unison and poured across the sky-bridge in pursuit of the survivors.

"Holy fuck, RUN!" Francis shouted.

The team dashed down a still set of escalators and into the main check-in area of the airport. Counters and baggage checks for various airlines stood, still and darkened, never to be used again. The lobby was in disarray, but none of the group stopped to look, pausing only to take quick pot-shots at any Infected in the area, before the main crowd burst out onto the balcony above them.

"Now would be a good time to tell us that idea, Zoey!" Louis panted as he ran, his legs feeling like lead. The non-stop running over the past ten minutes was starting to take its toll on him.

"Through here!" she shouted, leading the way toward the series of low roller doors behind the baggage check area. She leaped up onto the conveyor belt and crawled through the low opening to find herself in a dimly-lit corridor, criss-crossed with conveyor belts and long-forgotten bags and suitcases. She set to work, running down the pathway and pulling down the roller doors over the other openings before securing the locks on them.

Louis followed suit just as the horde spilled out onto the balcony above the foyer.

"Francis, hurry your slow ass up!" Bill shouted, bringing the assault carbine up to his shoulder. The burst of automatic gunfire was deafening, but it felled a group of attackers that were barrelling down the escalators toward them.

The biker kept up his speed, leaped onto the conveyor belt and slid through the baggage hatch, the rough contours of the surface burning into his back. The war veteran loosed one more burst for good measure, before finally turning and crawling through the small doorway. Louis slammed the roller door shut immediately behind him.

A loud series of bangs began to echo throughout the corridor as the Infected pounded on the doors from the other side, but it appeared as though they would hold up against the assault.

"Not the place to relax," the old man grunted, leading the way down the hallway. "We gotta keep moving."

Their footsteps echoed off the cement floors, concrete walls and metal frames of the conveyor belts as they ran down the length corridor. They soon turned a corner to the right, and the noise from the Infected pounding on the doors decreased. The travellers followed the conveyor, soon coming to the main nexus of the airport's baggage collection area.

"I always wondered what was back here," Zoey commented absently.

"I'm glad you did, 'cause it just saved our asses," Francis said.

"Let's get the hell outta this hole and back out into the main terminal, so we can figure out where we are," Bill muttered.

"To do that, we gotta take the stairs," Zoey teased, smirking playfully at the oldest member of the group. "Sorry, Bill."

"Would ya cut it out already?" he snapped in annoyance, more at the situation than at her.

The group climbed a metal staircase and passed through the door at the top into what appeared to be the security check area of Metro International Airport. If the scene outside the sky-bridge appeared bad, it almost seemed to be worse inside.

Zoey was absolutely flabbergasted at the intensity of the destruction throughout the terminal. It was as though a tornado had swept through the place; crushing walls; picking up partitions, baggage vehicles and trolleys, and flinging them clear across the hall; and leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

As the travellers wandered through, past piles of rubble and discarded weapons, they came across the grisly remains of a group of soldiers who must have died horrible deaths. Ribs and chest cavities had been crushed, limbs had been ripped off, and many appeared to have simply bled out where they fell.

The young woman remembered the horrible screams and shouting that came through the radio back in the Harbour View Hotel, bile rising in her throat. The screams of men who knew that they were going to die. Had these soldiers suffered a similar fate? And what was the scale of the countless others throughout the country who now lay heaped and broken in the streets?

Without warning, she leaned forward and vomited on the floor.

Three sets of eyes turned to her in worry. "You alright? You still feeling like... yourself, Zoey?" Francis asked tensely.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," she stammered, struggling to catch her breath. "I don't feel like I'm infected." _Not yet, anyway..._

"Then what was that vomiting episode about?"

"Uh..." The girl's eyes frantically scanned the others. "I accidentally jostled the bump on my head. No big deal, I promise." She absolutely refused to divulge the fact that she felt the weight and sorrow of what could possibly be millions of people horrifically killed come crashing down upon her shoulders. The last thing she needed was for the guys to think she was flaking out on them.

"You've been pushing yourself too hard," Bill commented, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It looks like there's a safe-room across the way. Let's hole up there and get you checked out."

Looking forward, Zoey could see that there was indeed a familiar red door set into the wall – a sight for extremely sore eyes. Truth be told, all the shocks, scares and intense combat over the past two hours since they had left their sheltered room in the power-plant had worn her down to a practically nervous wreck.

_But we're almost there,_ she told herself. _All we have to do is find the runway and then we will be evacuated before the city is bombed._

She sincerely hoped that nothing would go wrong.

Murphy's Law had a habit of rearing its head at the worst possible instances.

* * *

><p><em>2.5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

A little while later, Zoey was absentmindedly picking at the patch covering the gash on her cheek, which had been changed recently, along with the bandage on her neck. The wounds that Francis had sustained back in the hotel had also been looked to, and the group allowed themselves a little extra time to get their nerves back under control.

"Do you think the army is still out there on the runway?" Louis asked from the door they had come through, peering out into the dark terminal through the barred windows.

"They'd better be," Francis grumbled as he chewed on a granola bar. "Else we came all this way for nothin'."

"It's been about ten hours since we made contact with them at the hotel," Bill commented, not noticing Louis abruptly stiffen at the door. "Judgin' from what we've seen in the airport, I don't like their odds. But hopefully they held out – "

He was interrupted by a hissed _"shhhhh!"_ from the black man, fingers to his lips. "I think I hear something!" he whispered.

The war veteran joined him at the door and strained his ears to listen out for whatever had Louis so spooked. It was dead quiet on the other side, and he frowned. He turned to tell the younger man to calm down... but then stopped.

He could hear it too.

It was quiet, but it was definitely there. A low series of grunts and groans, intermingled with heavy breathing. Whatever it was sounded big, and it was coming closer. Bill and Louis backed up away from the door toward the others. They all stared at each other wide-eyed as the sounds grew louder, eventually stopping right outside the safe-room door.

Everyone remained rooted to the spot in fear.

Abruptly, the sounds started up again as the thing moved to and fro, and it appeared as though the creature – whatever it was – was moving away from the safe-room.

After some time, the sounds ceased entirely, and absolute silence descended.

Louis let out a deep breath he had not realised he was holding and looked slowly around the room. "I think we're okay," he said quietly.

_THOOM._

A deafening crash echoed throughout the safe-room, and the red steel door shook as it was struck with terrible force.

The four survivors backed up, in fear and in shock. This could not be happening. They were exhausted, low on ammunition, running out of time, and now something was knocking on the door?

They caught glimpses of the thing through the barred windows of the steel door, and with what they could see, no one was left wondering how it had the strength to cause such damage. They could tell that the monster was enormous, pink and muscle-bound.

"Holy s_hit!_" Zoey screamed. "What the hell _is_ that thing?!"

With a final shuddering crash, the safe-room door was ripped entirely off its hinges and sent flying across the room.

What followed next was far worse.


	56. Chapter 55: A True Monster

**Chapter 55: A True Monster**

* * *

><p><em>2 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

It sounded like the end of the world.

The safe-room door exploded off the wall and flew across the room with astonishing speed. Francis cursed and dodged out of the way.

_ THOOM._

There it was, standing in the doorway.

The shadowy figure was enormous. Pink and muscle-bound, it took up the space like a gargantuan wraith. It was huge, at least twelve feet tall, and veins bulged from the muscles that covered every inch of its upper body.

"Holy s_hit!_" Zoey cried. "What the hell _is_ that thing?!"

"It looks like the fucking Hulk!" Louis yelled, his shaking flashlight snapping up to its head.

The monster put up a twisted, swollen hand with an irritable snarl, the light blinding it. For a moment, everyone was frozen in place, unsure of what the hell to do.

Bill was the first to react. "Get out of the way!" he yelled, lifting his assault rifle.

The gunfire was deafening, but he did not relent on the trigger, hoping that an entire magazine of 5.56 x 45mm ammunition would be enough to bring the monster down.

No such luck.

It roared in fury, shaking the room as it stormed forward with intent to kill. Bill dove out of the way just as its fist connected with the wall with a deafening crash, smashing completely through.

Francis' Beretta sang as he emptied round after round into the behemoth, his shots doing little more than making it mad. "This thing's built like a goddamn tank!"

"Clear out of the room!" the older man yelled.

No one argued.

Francis sent glancing shots over his shoulder as he followed the others out of the safe-room. They had to get away. "Up the escalators!" he shouted, making his way across the ruined concourse. At least now they knew what had caused such destruction in the terminal.

With a resounding _BOOM_ of crumbling cement and flying debris, the huge infected beast burst out of the safe-room in hot pursuit. The biker's eyes nearly popped out of his head when his pursuer put its fists to the ground, running almost on all fours, like a gorilla. Not only was it strong, it was fast to boot.

Even after the world had gone to shit, there were seldom times when Francis was scared. But he sure as hell was now. This monster was not just going to kill them. It was going to _annihilate_ them.

Automatic gunfire from the side caught their attention as Louis opened fire, having looted an M-16 assault rifle from one of the soldiers' corpses throughout the terminal. However, the aptly-termed 'Tank' shrugged off the bullets as though they were little more than pellets from a pea-shooter. The former office worker's mind was screaming for him to run, but he bravely stood his ground.

"Louis, get out of there!" Zoey cried from the landing at the top of the escalators, ice-cold terror in her voice. She lifted her hunting rifle to her shoulder and lined up a shot at the infected beast as it thundered across the hall toward her friend. Just as it was about to reach him, a shot rang out and struck it in the back of the head.

The Tank screeched in pain, but it appeared as though an increased density of its skull prevented the shot from being fatal.

What it did do, however, was allow Louis to dart around the hulking beast, scooping up another magazine from a soldier's corpse, and join with the others on the second floor.

"That thing ain't going down," Bill said, leading the others down a hallway, cluttered with debris and ruin. "We're gonna need more firepower, which I sure as hell hope the army has."

"You want to lead that thing to Captain Williams?" Louis asked disbelievingly.

A throaty roar echoed throughout the tunnel.

"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears!" the veteran shot back at the younger man.

He did not.

With that, the four survivors ran for their lives through the darkened tunnel. The sound of screeching metal caused Zoey to spare a glance over her shoulder, and her eyes widened in horror. "Look out!" she screamed, pushing Louis to the side.

Moments later, a mangled baggage trolley landed where they had been with an ear-shattering crash. Twisted shards of metal skittered away into the darkness.

"Keep running!" Bill shouted.

The thunderous roar behind them left no room for argument. His team took off with the beast hot on their heels. Just as he thought things could not get any worse, the sounds of pounding footsteps from further ahead drew his attention. The cone of his flashlight showed three dark figures bearing down on them, obviously attracted by all the commotion.

Passing shots were fired, bringing down a couple, but the third fell upon Bill. There was a sickening _CRACK_ as the old man smashed the butt of his assault carbine into its face, sending it toppling to the floor.

However, the slight delay allowed the Tank to catch up, bellowing its bloodthirsty fury.

"Bill, look out!" Zoey cried, her pistol unloading a clip into the monster's flank in a valiant effort to kill it. Such an effort was in vain, it seemed. The Infected being's skin was so thick; the low-calibre rounds could do little to pierce its organic plate armour.

The war veteran shouted in shock and threw himself out of the way as the Tank's mighty fist slammed down where he had been standing, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. Louis' M-16 hammered out a burst of gunfire at its head. It flung up an arm to protect its face, but several bullets hit home and it howled in pain. Bill recovered and added fire from his own Colt M4 to the barrage of sizzling lead.

For their part, Francis and Zoey directed fire from their pistols on several more Common Infected that bore down on them from the shadows, their angered shouts echoing throughout the halls.

Once they were down, Zoey unslung the Winchester from its strap on her shoulder and took a hastily-aimed shot, but its effect was lost in the chaos.

"I need more ammo!" Louis shouted as his rifle clicked dry.

"That son of a bitch _still_ isn't going down!" Bill growled. "This is just ridiculous!"

"How much ammo you got left?" Francis shouted over to him as they continued running.

"Still got plenty, but it's not gonna be enough! But I have an idea. We need to lead this fucker into a tight space."

"Lead the way then!"

The laboured grunting of the monster in pursuit echoed all around them. Even with the adrenaline and sense of self-preservation coursing through them, everyone's bodies ached, their chests tight and their joints creaking with abuse. But they had to keep on running. If they stopped, even for a second, that thing would annihilate them.

So they ran harder.

Zoey clutched the hunting rifle to her chest, tears of frustration stinging the corners of her eyes. She could not believe it. After everything they had been through, after coming so close to rescue, the universe had thrown them a curveball they just could not overcome. Namely because said curveball was a fucking Hulk Hogan on steroids.

As fast as their pursuer was, and as exhausted as the survivors were, they gradually managed to put some distance between themselves and it. After what felt like an eternity, although in reality, it was probably no more than twenty seconds, they emerged into another large concourse.

"Down there," Bill said, motioning toward a smaller tunnel on the far side of the ground floor. "We should be able to trap it."

A number of ambling Common Infected on the ground level turned their gazes up at them, but a burst of gunfire from Bill's M4 felled several where they stood, while Francis raised his pistol and took out the others as they advanced up the escalators toward them.

A sickening slurping sound caught Zoey's attention.

"SHIT!" Louis cried, struggling against a tentacle-like tongue that ensnared him around the waist. Both of his hands clutched the railing for dear life as he hung over the void, the Smoker threatening to pull him off.

The fiery young woman traced the unnatural appendage back to its source on the far side of the second floor void, raised her rifle and lined up a headshot. She was vaguely aware of someone yelling that the Tank was catching up, but this was not a shot that she could afford to miss.

_BLAM!_

The Winchester cracked and a bullet whizzed across the room, sending up a puff of dark green smoke an instant later.

"Help me!" Louis cried, his grip on the railing slipping fast. "I'm gonna fall!"

Zoeu moved forward, but Francis beat her to the punch, grabbing Louis arm and hauling him back over the railing.

"LOOK OUT!" Bill yelled.

The biker looked over his shoulder to see a wall of flesh filling his vision, a vast hand pulled back for a bone-breaking punch. He jerked out of the way, the blow missing him by the skin of his teeth.

The Tank howled as its unstoppable momentum was turned against it, sending it crashing through the railing and over the edge, where it fell to the floor with a chilling _CRUNCH_.

"Is it dead?" Louis ventured meekly, peering over the edge. No sooner were the words spoken did the monster stir.

"_Thanks_, Louis," Francis spitefully expressed.

He turned and rounded on him. "_WHAT?!_ What the hell did _I_ do?"

"_Optimism_. You jinxed us."

"Let's GO!" Bill's solemn command spurred everyone back into action. They barrelled down the escalators two at a time and across the concourse. The Tank was almost on its feet, fixing them with a glare that promised retribution.

The tunnel they flew down was narrower than before, seemingly for the employees of the airport. That did not matter now. All that mattered to the war veteran was that the ceiling was lower.

_Just a little further..._ he said to himself.

"Run _faster_, old man!" Francis bellowed from further ahead. "It's gaining on you!"

Bill ignored him and pulled an object from his belt – the same object that he had picked up back in the Harbour View Hotel.

The grunting and growling of the beast behind drew ever closer.

"Bill!" Zoey shouted, her voice filled with anxiety.

The Tank was almost upon him.

_Now!_

Bill pulled the pin off the grenade, tossed it up against the wall, and then turned and raised his gun, unleashing hell upon the creature as he backed up. It roared in pain, its thunderous advance halted momentarily as it swatted at the lightning-fast projectiles in vain.

A moment later, the hallway was lit up like fireworks on the fourth of July.

The grenade exploded, its bellow deafening as the wall crumbled before it. The groan of the ceiling was even louder as the stress on the masonry became too much and it collapsed, unleashing an unstoppable torrent of concrete and steelwork onto the unfortunate Tank.

Francis and the others shielded their eyes from loose debris as a section of the ceiling caved in. It sounded like the end of the world. Presently, the chaos subsided, and he looked back to see a wall of rubble before them. Fortunately, the rest of the tunnel had held up.

"_Ha!_ You did it, old man!"

There was no answer.

"Bill?" Zoey looked around the tunnel, but the eldest of her team was nowhere to be seen.

Her eyes widened in the horror of understanding a moment later.

"_BILL!"_

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

I am so sorry for the long wait between this chapter and the last. I've been incredibly busy with a new job, and what little writing time I did have was focused on my other fanfiction stories. But I've been inspired to continue working on this, mostly due to watching an LP of _The Last of Us_ (which was like watching a 6 hour zombie movie – awesome).

Oh, and guys and girls, this is it. A couple more chapters until _Dead Air_ is wrapped up, and then _Blood Harvest_, the final (normal) campaign of the game.

I hope you enjoyed our favourite survivors' first encounter with a Tank. It certainly won't be their last. Let me know what you think in a review, and I'll see you next chapter!


	57. Chapter 56: The Skin on Our Teeth

**Chapter 56: The Skin on Our Teeth**

* * *

><p><em>1.75 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

"_BILL!"_

Zoey's cry echoed throughout the pitch-black tunnel, her flashlight darting wildly to and fro in a desperate effort to find him. Rubble filled the length of the tunnel.

"Did he get caught in that...?" came Louis' small voice.

She didn't hear anything else, crawling on her hands and knees and scooping up rocks with both hands and tossing them aside. The clunking of the rubble echoed throughout the darkened tunnel as the two other men stood there, not quite sure what to do.

"Fucking help me!" the young woman yelled.

That seemed to snap them out of it, and they helped her to move aside the rubble at an agonisingly slow pace. No words were spoken between them as they worked, just an unspoken agreement that no one would be left behind. They would not leave the man who had gotten them all so far to be buried and forgotten.

They could not.

Zoey's heart skipped a beat when she felt something soft brush up against her palm. Her hand came away sticky. Her heart pounding, she let out a soft gasp when the beam of her flashlight fell upon a battered Bill. Still partially buried in the concrete, she could see deep cuts all over his face, including a long and jagged one going from the corner of his eye across his left cheek. The left side of his face was covered in blood.

"He's over here," she choked out, feeling her world unravelling around her.

With help of the others, the old man was gently pulled out and laid on the cold, hard floor of the tunnel before the cave-in, his eyes closed fast. Louis gently moved her aside and set to work checking him over. There was an agonising silence.

"He's not breathing..."

Zoey froze in terror at Louis' words. She looked on helplessly as he began chest compressions on Bill, softly counting out loud in the darkness. Francis' gloves creaked as he curled his fists, absolutely furious at what was happening. He looked around and spied the green beret and Colt M4 lying amidst the rubble.

"One... two... three... Come on, Bill," Louis pleaded softly.

The counting continued on into the darkness, but there was no change. Their leader lay still and lifeless on the cold, hard floor of the darkened tunnel. Zoey could see Louis getting more and more worn out by the minute, his voice strained as he appeared to be on the verge of giving up.

But she absolutely refused to allow this horrible tunnel to become Bill's tomb. Knocking Louis' hands aside, she pushed down on his chest with both hands, bending over and giving him mouth-to-mouth at the end of each compression sequence. Bill's chest rose and fell with the resuscitation, but never on its own.

Zoey felt her strength slipping away, but refused to give up. She would not just let him go.

To that end, she struggled and fought when she felt hands pulling her away. _"Let go of me! Don't fucking touch me!"_ she shrieked, her voice bordering on hysterical.

"Get her off him," Francis said sternly, kneeling down and taking her place at Bill's side as Louis pried her off his body.

For a moment, she thought he was going to get up and order for them to move on, but gratitude flooded through her when she saw him continuing her efforts to resuscitate Bill. However, the feeling was soured when she saw the stiff, monotonous manner in which he was doing it. Francis was just going through the motions.

He had given up on Bill.

Time continued to march on relentlessly, yet no one knew how much had passed. It could have been two minutes, five or ten. No one knew the difference.

"We've done everything that we can," the biker finally announced, his voice low and sorrowful.

Zoey's arms hung loosely down by her sides as she was held there by Louis, her body trembling as she felt the tears spill over. Suddenly, she threw her arms up, knocking him away. "FUCK YOU, FRANCIS! WE'RE NOT LEAVING HIM BEHIND!" she screamed.

She collapsed to her knees and started the chest compressions again, breathing her life force into him. He had done the same for her when she lay on that dark beach, on the verge of death after the Slaters threw her to the river. She owed him the same and more.

She did not realise that her compressions had turned into beatings as she pounded Bill's chest in despair, tears running freely down her face.

"Zoey, stop it!" Louis yelled as he grabbed her from behind. He was fighting tears of his own as she fought back against him. Bill's body needed to be laid to rest.

The young woman fought with her entire being as she was pulled away. They did not understand. They could not understand. To them, they had lost a friend, a comrade.

But to her...

It was like losing _him_ all over again.

She eventually crumbled and buried her head into Louis shoulder, at that moment wanting nothing more than to pass on into oblivion. Bill had been the light to guide them in this horrible new world. What would they do without him...?

"We need to keep moving," Francis said, his voice thick and heavy, and Louis nodded dumbly, still in shock over what had happened.

"We can't just leave him..." Zoey whispered. Their flashlights were no longer on Bill's body, but she knew it was still there, lying on the cold, hard floor of this dark tunnel.

"He won't be left to rot here," Louis murmured, gently guiding her away. He did not like it anymore than her, but... "Soon, the airforce is going to arrive, and this place will be set ablaze. Bill will be given a hero's funeral."

Zoey felt nothing but emptiness, and numbly allowed herself to led away. One step, two steps, three steps...

She stopped dead.

Something made her freeze in shock. It couldn't be...

The sound of someone gasping for air...

She whirled back around, but the beam from her flashlight was swallowed up by the darkness. Was she going crazy, had that quiet sound actually been...?

There it was again. Several agonisingly slow beats passed.

_"Somebody, help me, please!"_

The sound of his pleading voice was all it took to get everyone rushing back down the tunnel the way they came. "Bill!" Zoey cried out in joy, half-afraid that it had all been in her head.

The sound of shallow, laboured breathing was her response. By the soft light of the flashlights, she found him, sitting up beside the wall of rubble, looking battered, bewildered and pained, but alive.

She wrapped her arms around the grizzled elderly man and held him tightly, never wanting to let him go. However, she immediately released him when he screamed in pain. "Oh god, oh god, Bill, I'm so sorry!" she blabbed, supporting his weight.

"Where does it hurt?" Louis asked, coming over to him. He was beyond relieved, but everyone knew that the war veteran was not out of the woods yet. He had almost suffocated, and there could be internal injuries.

"Down here," Bill replied slowly, clenching his teeth in pain as he gestured over the right side of his chest. "It feels like I've broken a rib or two."

"They could just be bruised," Louis said hopefully, rummaging through the first-aid pack for gauze and wrapping.

It took much time and patience, and pain on Bill's part as he lifted his arms, but eventually they had him out of his t-shirt, and his chest wrapped. The old man winced as he was helped back into his shirt and jacket. The pain had subsided slightly, mostly thanks to the wrapping across his chest, but it was still very much there.

Zoey chewed on her lip nervously. "Do you think you can stand?"

He squared his jaw in determination, mentally preparing himself for the pain. After a moment, he nodded.

"Let's get you on your feet then, you tough old bastard," Francis replied, looping an arm over his shoulder while Louis got the other. While Zoey covered them with her pistol, they hoisted him to his feet as gently as they could, although he still he hissed in pain throughout the ordeal. The sight caused the former college girl distress, but at least it appeared as though Bill could stand and, apparently, walk.

"Thank god you're okay," she breathed, smiling softly at him. He tried to return it, only to double forward in a fit of hoarse coughing.

"Whoa, take it easy there, big guy," Louis chimed in, swinging his M-16 assault rifle over his shoulder and taking some of Bill's weight onto his own. "We don't want you collapsing on us."

"Yeah, and just when your badass counter passed mine," Francis said reproachfully. "We can't have you faintin' on us like a little pussy now."

Zoey burst out with a peal of laughter that echoed throughout the darkened place. The four survivors stood there for a moment in a companionable silence, hardly daring to believe their good fortune. They were not without their injuries – not that any of them had been expecting to come through the ordeal unscathed – but it was a straight shot from here to the runway.

The burly biker held the Colt M4 out to Bill, but the older man waved it away. "You hang onto it," he said in a gruff tone. "I'm in no shape to handling an assault rifle right now. My pistol will do me fine."

"Alright, then how about you take this back?"

There was complete silence in the tunnel as Francis held out the crumpled green beret. Finally, the veteran took it and placed it atop his head.

He flashed him a toothy grin. "Thanks. I think I'm startin' to like you, boy."

"Right back at ya, old man. Lead on."

With that, the team slowly but steadily moved forward down the tunnel, toward salvation. They did not notice that several loose rocks tumbled down the wall of rubble they left behind them.


	58. Chapter 57: The Runway

**Chapter 57: The Runway**

* * *

><p><em>1 HOUR UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

Beneath the red sky, the ragtag remnants of the Newburg regiment rearguard made their last stand. With most of the airfield a wasteland of wreckages, debris and corpses, all of their defences were now concentrated around the only remaining runway which was clear. Thus, it was the only place where there was room for a C-130 Hercules carrier aircraft to land and extract them from this hell.

The regiment had once been a proud and strong unit of seasoned, battle-hardened men, but a solid week of battle against the Infected and seeing friends die had worn them down. Now, with the majority of the unit having been successfully extracted, only Captain Williams and a handful of weary soldiers remained, cowering behind makeshift barricades of containers, vans and airport vehicles.

"Infected closing in from the east side of the airfield!" a soldier yelled.

"All batteries, standby to open fire on my mark," Williams ordered into his radio, turning toward a large horde charging across the field toward them. Their angered screams filled the air. "Mark."

As one, the line of M2 machine-gun emplacements unleashed a roaring mass of flame and bullets that reduced the forerunners to bloody pulps. Heads and limbs flew as bodies were all but torn apart by the absolutely devastating hail of gunfire.

"We got another group of creepers coming in from the terminal!" a soldier called, peering through the scope of his sniper rifle. "Hang on a minute... Sir! I think they're civilians!"

"What?" The eternal frown that marred Williams' face momentarily faded as a look of pure shock took its place. Could it be the group from the hotel? He had not been expecting them to make it. "Hold your fire, goddamn it!" he growled to several of his troops who had the motley crew lined up in their sights. "They're friendlies!"

Bill gasped with exertion as he limped across the runway, helped along by Francis and Louis. Gunshots rang out as Zoey trained her pistol on anything that came too close to them for comfort. She froze in horror when a crowd of people emerged from behind the shell of a crashed plane.

However, a line of lights flashed in the distance, and the air was filled with whistling and meaty _THWACKS_ as bullets slammed into their attackers, felling them all in an instant.

"There's the army!" Louis exclaimed, filled with euphoria. "_Ha ha! _We made it!"

The ever-encroaching lines of the Infected continued to appear all over the runway, but fortunately, with help from the soldiers in the distance, Zoey was able to keep them at bay as they made their way across no-man's land.

"Holy shit!" a hoarse voice called out. "I never expected you people to make it!"

"You have no idea what we went through to get here," Francis grunted at the soldier who had come over to greet them as they helped Bill over to the far side of the barricades to the airport terminal. Dark trees stood in the distance at the edge of the runway.

"I got _some_ notion," he replied briskly. "I'm Captain Williams."

"I'm glad your boys were able to hold the line," Bill gasped, pain shooting through his body as his compatriots gently lowered him into a seated position on one of the metal containers that made up the barricades.

"Well, it hasn't been easy, and it's only getting harder," Williams replied as he gestured to the wasteland around them. "We were pushed right back, and the Infected have been trying to storm this place for the past day or so. We've been able to hold them off so far, but we're running low on ammo, and the gunshots are only drawin' in more of the bastards." He took a closer look at the older man and noticed the bandages wrapped across his chest under his blue shirt. "You alright?"

"He got buried in some rubble a little while ago, but we got him out quickly," Louis answered. "Some of his ribs are busted up – either bruised or broken."

"Shit," the soldier breathed, motioning the company's medic over. "Crush syndrome is what you ought to be worried about. Those bindings around his chest are tight?" When he received a ginger nod in response, he turned to the medic. "Grab some saline packs and get some fluids into him, pronto."

"Is he going to be okay?" Zoey asked, barely keeping her voice calm.

"Well, the fact that you removed the pressure quickly is good," the medic replied as he rummaged around in his field pack. "And a lack of numbness is a good sign. For now, the best we can do is to keep the pressure on his chest and replace his fluids – several litres per day would be ideal, but this seems to be a fairly mild case."

"Tell that to my fuckin' body," Bill grumbled, wincing in pain as the medical officer washed away some of the blood on his face. He was then handed a canteen of water and a small bag filled with the little plastic bottles.

"Once the water's gone, you'll have to drink all of these over the next few hours."

For his part, Louis was stocking up on ammunition from the garrison and reloading his M-16 rifle. "We'll stay here and keep an eye on our man," he said to Williams, who nodded in agreement.

"Keep him out of the way. The Infected are coming in mostly from the airport and the direction of the city. You three watch our six and make sure nothing sneaks up on us. I'll bring the rearguard forward to help us cover the front." He made his way toward the frontlines, but, as an afterthought, turned back toward the group. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you folk made it."

Louis nodded in acknowledgement, and the soldier turned and made his way back to his men. Francis whistled as he hoisted the Colt M4 carbine.

"Well, ladies, in a little bit, we're gonna be flyin' First Class to the nearest Safe Zone. They'd better serve alcohol on this flight."

Zoey spared a glance down at the slumped form of Bill sitting on the crate before gripping her pistol tighter. "We can't relax. Not yet. We have to watch the back and protect the soldiers while they protect us. We're all in this together now."

* * *

><p><em>30 MINUTES UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

The thunder of the soldiers' guns could be heard from all ends of the runway, firing constantly as the Infected emerged from the shadows and flowed like a wave. The soldiers grit their teeth, gunfire crackling across the air as they sought to hold back the ever-increasing horde of killers coming for them. With no purpose but to end their very existence.

The M2 emplacements spat flame and empty casings, filling the air with smoke and blood. All around, men drew beads on the Infected and brought them down with expert precision. As one fired, another reloaded. Their numbers were small and ever-diminishing, but the Newburg rearguard was a well-oiled machine of death dealing, their skills honed by a week-long battle in hell.

On their side of the battlefield, Francis, Louis and Zoey held back the Common Infected that threatened to flank the barricades. Despite the situation, the hardened young woman would pause occasionally to check on Bill.

"I'm fine, goddamn it, now keep on shooting!" he growled in response.

The attackers continued to fall in droves, but more were fast approaching, bearing down on the desperate survivors' defences. Something had to give. They would not hold out forever, and unless they were evacuated soon, they would surely be overwhelmed.

Almost as if on cue, hope filled everyone's hearts as one of the soldiers sighted the lights of an incoming aircraft in the dark smoke-filled sky. The C-130 Hercules touched down on the far side of the runway that they had managed to keep (mostly) clear, roaring toward them.

"Get ready to move!" Francis shouted over the deafening gunfire. He could already see several soldiers breaking position and moving toward the place where the aircraft was slowing and preparing to lower its rear ramp.

At that moment, an ear-splitting roar resonated through the air. Zoey looked back, and her blood ran cold.

There, standing at the far end of the airport terminal, was a gargantuan figure, covered in blood. It was all too familiar, and just as terrifying, despite the injuries it had sustained.

The Tank was not dead.

It had survived the rock fall. And now, it had come for them.

"Look out!" she cried, waving her arms as she ran toward the plane in a vain effort to get the soldiers' attention.

The majority of them were getting into position near the carrier aircraft to cover each other as they boarded the rear ramp when it came down. The former college girl rushed forward past the barricades, but was stopped short when she felt someone grab her arm. She looked to see Francis shaking his head at her.

"Stay away from that plane, Zoey," he said, his voice toneless. "The noise those propellers are makin', they might as well be ringin' a damn dinner bell."

"But we have to do _something_!" she cried, sparing a glance back at the Tank. "That thing's going to destroy them!"

Before anything more could be said, however, another bellowing roar echoed across the tarmac. Bullets whistled through the air as several soldiers near the plane began to fire at the monster and the surrounding Infected, but hardly a dent was made in their ranks.

Then, to everyone's absolute horror, the gargantuan figure lifted up a huge boulder from the rubble and hurled it at the aircraft. Time seemed to slow as the rock flew through the air. The C-130 Hercules caved as the boulder smashed right through its midsection, crumpling like a tin can.

A moment later, a huge fireball lit up the sky. A deafening roar echoed across the runway as the plane exploded. The shriek of rending metal pierced everyone's ears, and the very ground seemed to shake.

"Holy _shit!_"

Flaming wreckage was blasted out across the runway, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The Infected howled in unison as they closed in, with the Tank leading the charge. The monster trampled its lesser brethren or hurled them unceremoniously aside in its rampage.

A number of surviving soldiers taking cover behind the remaining barricades opened fire on the behemoth as it charged, but nothing seemed to even slow it down. It ploughed through their ranks like a battering ram, and their screams soon filled the air. Like a dark tide, the figures of the Infected swept through the shattered defences, and it was not long before all gunfire had ceased.

The four other survivors looked on, absolutely powerless to do anything to help.

In the end, Bill urged them to get down low, before the Infected in the distance spotted them.

Zoey's breaths came out in ragged gasps as bile rose up in her throat at the shock of seeing all those men slaughtered like cattle.

The terrifying reality of the situation hit her a moment later.

All of their allies were dead.

They were completely surrounded by the Infected.

Trapped in a city, which, in less than fifteen minutes, was going to explode.


	59. Chapter 58: Failsafe

**Chapter 58: Failsafe**

* * *

><p><em>15 MINUTES UNTIL FAILSAFE<em>

The sky was stained a dark red as the fiery wreckage of the C-130 Hercules blazed.

The cries of the Infected filled the air as they feasted upon remains that, only a few minutes earlier, had been living, breathing men, filled with hope for escape.

It had all been in vain.

Zoey was in shock. This could not be happening. They _killed_ that fucking Tank! She had watched it die. Only for it to emerge from the ruins of the airport and utterly annihilate a squad of highly-trained soldiers. Those poor souls who had died defending them.

She was still reeling from the mind-numbing horror that had struck her when the plane exploded, taking with it their hopes for escape.

Now what were they to do?

Bill curled his fingers around the handle of his SIG-Sauer pistol, feeling absolutely worthless. While everyone around him had fought tooth and nail to defend the runway from the Infected, he had been sitting like an old useless bastard. And he had failed to kill the Tank.

He had fucking failed.

Now, Williams and his men were dead, and his team would be joining them unless they acted quickly. "We got less than fifteen minutes until this entire city is reduced to rubble," he said quietly. "We need a plan to get outta here."

"Could we sneak out across the runway on foot?" Louis suggested in a hushed tone, to which he a received a shake of the head.

"The Infected would spot us before we got ten metres. And I spent enough time in the army to know how serious it is when they resort to levelling a city. They'll also bomb the surrounding areas to at least four or five kilometres to try and kill as many of the Infected as possible."

"Then it's pretty obvious how we're gettin' out of this shit," Francis interjected, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward a white, blood-splattered van that made up part of the failed barricade. "We use that airport van. The army had to move it to use it for cover, so the keys are probably in the ignition or the driver's cab somewhere."

"Look at all those Infected between you and that van!" the war veteran hissed. "You wouldn't get five paces."

"I know. That's why I need you guys to cover me," the biker replied. "You all up for it?"

"Uh, of course we'll cover you," Zoey started, uncertainty in her tone. This plan was too risky. "But – "

"No time for buts, unless you want to be carpet-bombed back to the stone age," he shot back, lifting the Colt M4 and getting ready to run. "You all need to make sure that nothing gets in my way, and keep them off the van once I get in. I'll bring it back around – "

"Francis," Louis cut in.

"What?!" he hissed irritably.

"Be careful."

After a moment, the burly man nodded in acknowledgement before turning back toward the van. It was only ten to fifteen metres or so, but to him, it looked like a hundred.

Bill stole a glance at his watch to see that it was nearing five-fifty a.m. He was glad he had taken the opportunity to synch his watch with Captain Williams'. At least now his group had an accurate measure of how much time they had left.

The old man set his stopwatch and then nodded silently at Zoey. She rose and drew a bead on the head of the nearest infected man with her Winchester rifle.

The stopwatch ran down the time:

12:30  
>12:29<br>12:28

"Go."

The gunshot from Zoey's rifle shattered the stillness of the air.

The rest of the survivors stood up and immediately opened fire, their weapons clattering in their hands as they cut a swath through the crowd toward the van. Coarse growls echoed across the runway as the Infected noticed and swarmed toward them.

10:57  
>10:56<br>10:55

"Suck on this, you zombie bastards!" Francis yelled, throwing Bill's last pipe-bomb out into the fray. Many of the Common Infected nearby immediately lost interest in them and ran after the blinking device, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to them. The combined fire from Zoey's hunting rifle and Louis' M-16 took care of any stragglers left in the way.

Francis took off like hound out of the stocks. Moments later, the pipe-bomb exploded, wiping out a sizeable portion of the Infected in the immediate area.

09:40  
>09:39<br>09:38

"Shit, there's too many of 'em!" Louis shouted as he paused to reload his assault rifle. The lull in the covering fire was met with a fierce push from the Infected. Francis was forced to stop momentarily, lift the Colt M4 and blow away the tenacious attackers that came too close to him.

"Over there!" Bill shouted, doing his best to ignore the pain that shot through his body as he pointed toward an immense bulbous figure in the distance. "Shoot that fucker! It'll distract 'em!"

Zoey immediately swung her hunting rifle around and drew a bead on the Boomer.

Blood, guts and bile flew as the bulbous man exploded. Many of the Infected nearby paused, sniffed the air, and then ran in the direction of the Boomer's remains, leaving the way clear for Francis to run to the van.

He wasted no time, and, seconds later, barrelled into the driver's seat. _Extremely_ luckily for him, he found the keys already in the ignition.

"Well ain't that just dandy," he muttered to himself, gunning the engine and throwing the van into reverse gear, running over several attackers behind him.

07:20  
>07:19<br>07:18

"Yes, yes..." Zoey whispered as she saw the white van come roaring toward them. She slung her hunting rifle back over her shoulder and whipped up her pistol, as she and Louis focused on keeping the Infected around them at bay. "So far, so good..."

The words froze in her throat when a rumbling roar reverberated throughout the air, and a hulking figure emerged from behind the flaming wreckage of the C-130 Hercules, obviously drawn in by all the noise.

The Tank.

Oh, shit. They had to hurry.

"Francis better make this quick!" Louis shouted between the thunder of his M-16.

The biker in question made sure to run over as many Infected between him and his team as possible on the way back, to make sure that they would not cause problems for them. Eventually, he skidded to a stop in front of his friends.

"Come on, get in!" he yelled from the open driver's window.

06:50  
>06:49<br>06:48

Zoey threw open the back door and helped Bill into one of the seats in the rear compartment of the van, while Louis laid down a barrage a cover-fire from next to the vehicle. Bullets sparked the runway and the Infected howled as they swarmed toward them.

What was even more frightening was the huge shadowy mass of muscle that was thundering toward them from the crashed plane.

"Get in, you _fuckin' black bastard_!" Francis shouted.

Louis complied and grabbed hold of a hand-bar overhead. There was no time for him to scramble into the front passenger seat, or to even close the back doors of the van. "Just go!" he shouted.

Tyres squealed and rubber burned as the van took off, smashing through a group of Infected that had assembled directly in front of it. The still-open back doors of the van swung wildly as it swerved toward a road. Enraged shouts and screams were all around them. Zoey gripped her seat tightly, while Bill never took his eyes off the stopwatch.

06:00  
>05:59<br>05:58

"We gotta move fast!" he shouted, as the airport vehicle tore out of the airfield. "We need to get at least five k's out, or this van's gonna be toast when the airforce arrives!"

"Uh, we got a more immediate problem than that!" Louis cried nervously, looking through the opening in the back of the van to see the Tank approaching rapidly from behind. "Man, this guy is _fast!_"

One kilometre.

04:35  
>04:34<br>04:33

"Hold it steady, Francis!" Louis yelled from the back as he let go of the hand-bar and raised his M-16. "I'm gonna try slow this asshole down!"

The burly biker grunted in affirmative as he raced down a highway away from the town. Were they headed north? West? Who knew anymore?

Louis opened fire straight through the opening between the swinging rear doors, his rounds sizzling through the air. Most of them missed, but several hit home, the bullets tearing into the Tank's flesh. Injured as it was, the beast still ploughed on relentlessly. He was starting to think it was hopeless, but, eventually, the monster began to slow down.

Two kilometres.

03:20  
>03:19<br>03:18

Zoey's fingers dug into the cushion of her seat. She had never been an overly-religious person, but she found herself praying.

Three kilmometres…

02:00  
>01:59<br>01:58

"Jesus, drive _faster!_" Bill yelled.

"I've got the pedal to the fucking floor!" Francis roared back.

The war veteran groaned as his body ached. He did not care what it took, but they were going to get out of this alive.

They had to.

Four kilometres…

01:00  
>00:59<br>00:58

Francis ground his teeth in as he glared through the windshield at the road in concentration. The van's engine roared as it was gunned to the absolute limit.

Louis watched in fascination as the Tank _still_ continued to pursue them! However, it was starting to fall behind.

00:30  
>00:29<br>00:28

A sudden shrieking in the sky overhead caught everyone's attention.

"What was that?" Zoey shouted.

00:10  
>00:09<br>00:08

The biker spared a glance up to see lights _tearing_ through the sky, right overhead. He could just make out the twin flames of what looked to be ten to fifteen jets, each one roaring as it shot overhead.

00:02  
>00:01<br>00:00

* * *

><p>The F-16 fighters approached the town of Newburg from the north, soaring toward the rise of buildings at Mach 2. The city lay dark and silent beneath them.<p>

Moments later, flashes and booms could be heard below as bombs began to rain down from above. The city lit up like the fourth of July. Fires roared and buildings crumbled.

Angered shouts that filled the air were soon silenced as the flames consumed anything or anyone at ground level.

* * *

><p>Francis tore the van down the highway, swerving to avoid wrecked cars littered across the road. He could hear the explosions behind them. Were they far enough out?<p>

Louis looked on in shock as explosions rocked the countryside behind them. The pursuing Tank was caught in a wave of flame, and, shockingly, caught fire! Its rampage slowed considerably as the flames ravaged its body.

"Haha! Watch that fucker burn!" Louis whooped, unable to tear his eyes away as the flaming mass of Tank eventually collapsed to the ground in the distance.

The survivors sat in silence for a moment as the van continued north along the highway. Eventually, Francis and Louis laughed, euphoria filling them at the prospect of their narrow brush with death.

"I told you guys we'd make it!" he cried, reaching over and pulling the back doors of the van finally shut. He then crawled up past Zoey and Bill and collapsed into the front passenger seat, where he exchanged a high-five with the driver.

Bill just sank back into his seat and closed his eyes, the wrinkles on his face becoming more pronounced as he smiled. It had been one hell of a ride.

As the others celebrated around her, Zoey sat in a stunned silence as she allowed the horrifying situation to sink in. An entire city had been wiped out by the Infection, right before her very eyes.

One city of many.

Countless dead. How many more would follow?

The blood-splattered white van roared north along the highway to nowhere in particular.

Behind it, the sky flashed as the bombs fell and the city of Newburg burned.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

Thank you to everyone for the reviews and suggestions. Please keep them coming!

Sorry for the delay, but, with this chapter, the _Dead Air_ campaign is finally concluded. It's been the longest one yet.


	60. BLOOD HARVEST: Chapter 59: Hopelessness

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Wow, it's been two months since the last update?! Holy crap, I'm sorry about that! I'll take this opportunity to thank everyone for their continued reviews and support, and I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter.

I'm thinking of buying either L4D1 or L4D2 for my PC, and I'm sure updates to this story will happen much faster once I can play again. Does anyone still play those games? I'd totally be up for some multiplayer goodness. I've also heard that L4D2 has pretty much all the campaigns from L4D1 available on it. Is this true? If so, how does it work? Are the original campaigns DLC or something?

By the way, I have heard rumours that Valve is working on L4D3. Does anyone know if this is true? If so, I might have to start rehearsing my happy dance.

Anyway, without further ado...

* * *

><p><strong>Part V: Blood Harvest<strong>

"_No hope, no cure. No problem."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 59: Hopelessness<strong>

* * *

><p>Zoey's eyes fluttered open to the sight of sunrays filtering down through the leaves above, casting a beautiful light over the grass upon which she lay. It was so green and soft. The world smelled fresh and beautiful.<p>

The young woman sat up and looked around to find herself lying beneath a lone tree at the top of a small hill. Green fields stretched on in all directions, as far as the eye could see. Birds twittered in the branches overhead.

"Well, well, it's about time you got up, sleepyhead!" a painfully familiar voice rang out overhead.

She looked to see the brunette form of her mother, but she was not as she last remembered her. Her mother seemed younger and more at ease with herself – before the arguments within the family had started, and she became a cold, motivation-driven woman.

"Mum!" Zoey exclaimed. She started to get up, only to stop when she felt her mother gently place a hand on her shoulder.

"No need to get up," she said softly. "Let's sit and listen to the birds for a while."

The two women did just that for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, the girl turned and stared at her mother, as if afraid that she would disappear.

"How is this possible?" she asked quietly. "You can't be here, mum..."

"I will always be with you," she replied. "As will your father. You're our daughter, after all."

At the mention of her father, Zoey's eyes began to water, and she hugged her mother tightly as the tears ran down her cheeks. "Oh, mum, the last three weeks have been hell. We only just managed to escape from Newburg, and... terrible things happened there..."

Dark clouds began to appear on the western horizon, blotting out the blue sky in the distance and coming closer.

The sympathetic look on the older woman's face showed she knew exactly what her daughter was talking about. The horrific deaths of Captain Williams and his men. The devastation of the city when the F-16s arrived.

The near-death experience of Bill in that dark tunnel.

"After what happened to you and dad, I don't know what I'd do if I lost him..." the former college girl continued, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. "It just seems like death follows me around wherever I go – "

"You stop right there, young lady," her mother said sternly, in a tone that she had used to scold four-year-old Zoey when she was caught with her hand in the cookie tin. "You are not to blame for any of this. You have to do what you must to survive."

The tone in her voice gave Zoey pause, and she looked at her in earnest. "Mum, what are you – "

"Promise me that you'll survive Zoey," she interrupted. "You are a survivor. Promise me."

"...I promise."

A rumble of thunder in the distance drew the young woman's gaze toward the dark clouds on the horizon. When she turned back, her mother was gone. In her place was a pale wraith-like woman, with fingers like long knives, and eyes like burning coals.

The banshee screamed as she raised her claws and plunged them into her chest.

* * *

><p>Zoey jolted awake with a gasp. She was breathless, and raised a hand to her chest. She recalled bits and pieces of a dream, and that something terrible had happened, but the memories were already slipping away – like trying to hold water in her hands, only to have it slip through her fingers.<p>

"Hey, are you okay?" came Louis' voice out of the darkness.

She looked to see his figure sitting on the table nearest the front entrance of the roadside diner they had taken refuge in, his M-16 rifle cradled in his hands. The boards across the windows were poorly arranged and had wide gaps in between them, allowing clear views of the stars in the dark sky outside. The diner had obviously been abandoned for a reason.

However, the group had been on the run for thirteen solid hours since dawn, the van having traversed numerous highways and turnpikes. They had spent the latter part of the day travelling west along Route 80, until Francis made the point of stopping the van outside the abandoned diner for his "beauty sleep".

All based on a message they had heard from a dispatch radio they found in a stray police cruiser they had passed on the outskirts of Newburg during their exodus. Never mind the fact that the message had been an ominously automated one, which was already waving enough red flags as it was, but it also appeared that, aside from refugee camps and isolated pockets of resistance, the only major evacuation sites left on the entire Eastern Seaboard were located in New Orleans and the Alleghany National Forest.

Two major evacuation sites left on the east side of the entire _continent_. The thought made her want to hurl.

"Zoey?" Louis said again, bringing her mind back to the present.

"It's okay, just a bad dream," she answered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I can't really remember much. Just that it was... bad." She shivered, recalling the feeling of something impaling her through the chest. She had no idea that dreams could feel so _real_.

She spared a glance toward the other booths, where Francis and Bill lay sprawled out on the benches. The old man had heeded the late army medic's instructions for fluid replacement, and Zoey had absolutely refused to allow him to take a driving shift during the day, insisting that he used the time in the van to rest up his injured ribs.

She was thankful, though. Things could have been much, much worse for him.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep much either after what happened in Newburg," Louis commented. He was fairly certain that every time he closed his eyes, he would see that... monster. The thing that had wiped out Captain Williams and his men without breaking a sweat.

'Tank' did not even begin to describe it. More like 'abomination'.

"You remember what you told me back in that gun store?" Zoey piped up. "About coping with whatever curveballs the universe throws at us?"

Louis smiled at her words. "You have a good point."

Aside from Francis' snores, the dark diner was enveloped in silence for some time, until Zoey broke it. "I'm here for you if you ever need anything, Louis."

"Thanks, Zoey. Right back at you."

With that, she lay back down in her booth and fell back into a restless sleep.

It was later on that night that Zoey slowly opened her eyes for a second time. Something had awoken her, but she was not quite sure what it was. She lay there, staring up at the ceiling and listening for a sound. Any sound.

She heard Francis snoring, Bill's light breathing, and Louis cleaning his rifle. Those were not the sounds which had stirred her from her sleep, however.

Finally, she heard it.

Her joints creaked as she climbed to her feet and made her way over to the nearest window to peer through the gaps between the boards.

"Gee, you're up again?" Louis commented from his spot near the door across the room. "You still have an hour until you have to relieve me, you know. I'll wake you up, so don't worry."

The young woman did not answer him, instead straining her ears to listen out for the noise. It could be heard, barely, as though the wind of the desolate countryside was carrying it to her ears. No matter how hard her eyes probed the dark world beyond the boarded-up windows, the source of the sound was out there, beyond what she could see.

This made her feel uneasy.

The sound was pitiful and gut-wrenching, as though the owner was feeling the same hopelessness of the situation as her.

Louis shifted nervously. "Zoey? What is it?"

Turning around, she saw him staring at her, his concern over her mental state clearly visible, even in the darkened room. She turned back toward the window and looked out, as though her eyes would allow her to see past the darkness outside.

"Someone's crying."


	61. Chapter 60: The Woods

**Chapter 60: The Woods**

* * *

><p>On the cracked highway, the sun was rising over the diner. Its rays shone through the cracks in the boarded up windows, casting the place in patches of light. Francis was in the process of cleaning the Colt M4 carbine, Louis was throwing their meagre food supplies together, and Zoey, having already changed the dressing over the wound on Francis' arm, was now checking Bill's injuries over.<p>

"How are your ribs feeling?" she asked.

"It's hard to tell, but I think the pain's a bit less than it was yesterday," he replied gruffly.

She smiled thinly at that. "It sounds like your ribs are just bruised, rather than broken, thank goodness. It will take less time for them to heal."

Bill grunted in annoyance regardless. "I'm still a liability, and a useless old fart, in my current condition."

"You already were one anyway," the biker chimed in.

Zoey jumped to his defence immediately. "Fuck you, Francis."

He chuckled, and then gestured to her cheek. "How's the gash?"

"Not too bad," she replied, rubbing it. The wounds she had received from the Smoker back in Newburg were thankfully healing quickly. She no longer needed a bandage on her cheek, and suspected that the wound at the base of her neck would not require dressing for too much longer.

It was amazing, all things considered. The encounter at the time had given her a concussion and nearly killed her.

Surprisingly, it was Louis who put a dampener on the mood. "We're running low on food," he said, handing an open tin of beans and a camping fork to Bill. "We probably only have a couple of days' worth left."

"We're getting close to the Alleghany National Forest," the older man replied. "Hopefully we'll reach the evac before it becomes an issue."

"I still say we should have tried to make some sort of SOS signal for the fighter jets back in Newburg," Louis said sourly.

"It was too open for us to stop the van," Bill shot back hotly. "We would have been sitting ducks for any Infected in the area."

Zoey was slightly taken aback. This was probably the first time she had witnessed any bad blood between the two men, and decided to intervene before things got too heated. "We should get moving. Alleghany National Forest is the closest evacuation site left. If it's way out in the forest, hopefully that will mean there are less Infected out here."

"One can only hope," Bill grunted.

Most of the van trip was spent in silence. Aside from having to avoid the occasional group of wandering infected humans, who shrieked and chased after the van in vain, the driving shifts were relatively uneventful. Zoey's attempts to start a game of 'Twenty Questions' or 'I Spy' were not met with much enthusiasm.

By late afternoon, the group of survivors were following the evacuation signs north along Highway 219. To the west stretched an endless sea of trees, dark and foreboding. Even more unnerving was the increasing amount of abandoned cars and makeshift campsites along the road.

"I was hoping we would have seen _someone_ by now," Louis commented as he carefully manoeuvred the van around a liberal congregation of vehicular roadblocks in the middle of the road.

Traffic thickened, to the point where it was no longer possible to continue travelling in the van. No one liked the idea of leaving it behind. At least its walls offered some form of protection against infected claws and teeth.

As the group clambered out of the vehicle, Francis brandished the Colt M4 carbine and looked down the road ahead, which was jam-packed with abandoned cars, all the way to the entrance of the national park. What was more worrying were the bodies sprawled here and there.

The group travelled the rest of the way along the road on foot in silence, looking around themselves as the sky darkened. Fortunately, the resting time in the van and diner seemed to have done Bill some good, and his walking was far less laboured.

Before long, they came to the entrance of the park. The trees of Alleghany National Forest stretched on, and there was not a sound to be heard.

"Pretty creepy," Louis murmured.

Zoey pursed her lips, but chose not to say anything.

"It says that the evacuation site is down this way," Francis called, indicating a dirt trail leading into the trees, next to a wooden bulletin board covered in CEDA notices.

"Okay, Louis, you're on point," Bill said.

The man in question raised his M-16 rifle and moved on into the trees. The others followed in an apprehensive silence. The abandoned cars, the lack of anyone around – all the signs were _not_ indicative of an active evacuation site.

Dead leaves crunched underfoot and the twitter from an occasional bird could be heard in the branches overhead as the sky darkened. Right in the middle of autumn, many trees were missing many of their leaves, or else completely bare. The Dark Forest from the _Wizard of Oz_ is what immediately sprang to Zoey's mind.

Eventually, they broke through the tree-line into a relatively large clearing with a steep-looking drop-off to the north. Aside from a picnic table and a wooden billboard, there was nothing else. No other survivors, no military personnel, no evacuation.

"What the hell...?" Bill murmured, making his way to the billboard.

Zoey wandered over to the edge of the clearing to gaze out over the overlook at the woodland far below. It was a rather beautiful view, but the feeling of dread gnawing at her slowly grew as the sun set and the forest darkened.

"I don't believe this shit!" Bill growled, tearing a pinned CEDA notice away from the board.

"What?" Louis asked.

"The evacuation point has been moved. And _that_ was over _three_ days ago." He looked like he was just about ready to shoot something. "What the _hell_ is this horseshit – a _farm_? Are they serious?"

"Well, at least the army's still posting signs. That's a good sign, right?"

"It's a whole new ball game now. We're on borrowed time. God_damn_ it, how long do we gotta claw our way through all this horseshit before somebody _helps_ us?"

"We all know how well things went down each time someone's tried to help us," Francis muttered darkly.

Their troubling predicament seemed to leach the very beauty from the area, only to be replaced with a sinister and dark ambience. The thought of stumbling through pitch-black forests, to an evacuation which might have already been abandoned to the horde, was a sobering one.

"What's the plan, Bill?" Zoey finally asked softly.

He glanced down at the ratty sheet of paper in his hands once more. "The notice says that there's a relocated evac point not far north from here, along some train tracks. We just need to find the train tracks and then follow 'em." He gazed around silently for several moments, sizing the area up. "I'll take the first watch. Everyone else get some sleep until your you're woken for your watch – we move out at first light. If we gotta make our way through the woods, there's no way in hell we're doin' it in the dark."

"Bill, you need to rest – " Zoey started, but was promptly cut off.

"I've been doing nothing but resting for the better part of two days now. We all need to start pullin' our weight, or we're never going to make it. Now settle down and get some sleep." His tone brooked absolutely no argument.

He placed his pistol on the table and at the ready, and then settled down to keep watch while the others laid out their packs as makeshift pillows next to each other on the ground.

"You're tellin' me people camp for _fun?_" Francis muttered in disbelief as he lay down on the grass.

As Zoey laid her head back on her backpack, she found herself shivering slightly with the cold. Her red field hockey track jacket was better than nothing, but not much. She felt uneasy about the entire situation. What if they got all the way out to the farmhouse and found that it too was abandoned?

Despite these harrowing thoughts, she fell asleep quite quickly.

* * *

><p>When Zoey felt a hand shaking her awake, she thought at first that it was her turn for watch. However, she immediately realised that something was wrong. It was still the middle of the night – obvious by the frigid air and dark sky. The sun had not even begun to rise yet.<p>

"What's going on?" she groggily asked Louis, who must have taken over sentry duty a couple of hours ago.

"I heard some noises in the trees just now," he whispered urgently.

Bill and Francis were already awake and alert, crouched down and aiming their weapons into the surrounding trees. In the nerve-wracking silence that followed, Zoey realised now how incredibly stupid it was for them to camp out in the middle of the woods, where wandering Infected would have absolutely no trouble sniffing them out. They could have at least found a ranger's station or somewhere better to hole up.

_ Stupid, stupid!_

A thick, guttural scream shattered the silence, followed by the cracking of footsteps as three dark figures burst from the trees and charged at them. Answering gunfire slammed into them, sending their bodies tumbling to the ground before Zoey even got a shot off from her pistol. The engagement was brief, but left everyone shaken. They stayed on alert for several minutes after that, but it appeared that there were no more Common Infected around.

For the time being, anyway.

"Well this is an ominous fucking sign," Francis growled.

"Come on, let's get moving," Bill said, picking up the medical pack and handing it to him. "The sun won't rise for a good few hours, but that was as good a wake-up call as any. We're far too exposed out here."

He led the way north through the woods along a narrow winding trail, four cones from flashlights guiding the way. From the broad expanse of black _nothingness_ surrounding them, it became increasingly apparent how completely exposed they were out here –

_** "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

Muzzle-flashes lit up the area as they fired on two screaming figures that emerged from the trees, thirsting for blood.

"Son of a _bitch_," Francis growled. "Whoever chose the forest for an evac point was a fucking _idiot_."

Louis nodded slowly in agreement. "They can come at us from anywhere. Someone could get seriously hurt."

"Stay frosty," Bill said, leading off. "Eyes and ears, people, and _stay quiet_."

Zoey felt decidedly less confident than she had been in cities, where it was possible to put her back to walls, to retreat to places to funnel hordes into more manageable groups. Out here, there was nothing but trees and open ground. The wooded trail was surrounded on all sides by vegetation and darkness – excellent hiding spots.

It did not happen often, but she jumped in alarm every time a Common Infected charged out of the trees with strangled cries. Fortunately, Bill seemed to be in his element out here, and mowed down the snarling attackers with his pistol in a heartbeat. However, the intermittent ambushes had everyone's nerves frayed by the time they reached another small camping ground, at the edge of which stood a deep gorge, spanned by a rope bridge.

_Really?_ Zoey could not help but ask the universe.

"Come on," Bill said, motioning the way forward.

As the team made their way across, the bridge swayed slightly, but fortunately national park regulations must have prevented it from being made in the category of 'rickety'. After making it to the other side without incident, Zoey was relieved that the clichéd movie event of a snapping rope bridge did not apply to real life.

However, the thought did occur to her that perhaps they _should_ cut the bridge, to prevent any Infected from following them. However, she quickly dismissed the idea from her mind. What if other survivors eventually came through here after them? They would need a bridge to cross too.

Everyone else in the group seemed to have come to the same conclusion, as no one even suggested it out loud, which only raised her opinion of her companions even more.

"Take a look at this," Bill said softly, shining his light on a nearby sign which pointed the way toward the Richardson Atlantic Freight Depot. "If that don't lead to the train tracks, then I'm the Queen of England."

However, everyone's enthusiasm was cut short by a familiar and most unwelcome sound drifting out of the woods. The pitiful and haunting sound caused an icy ball to materialise in Zoey's stomach.

"Someone's crying."

"Just our fuckin' luck," Francis growled. "Where is she?"

"I don't know…" Bill murmured, eyes flitting around the dark trees carefully. He was reluctant to move on, for fear of encountering the Witch, but they could hardly stand out in the open all night. "Take it slow and easy, and if you see her, turn and walk the other way."

"I've found a path over here," Zoey called softly to them. "It should take us to the depot."

She cautiously led the way forward down the dark forested path. The crying was all around them, but it was impossible to pin-point exactly where it was coming from...

Her heart skipped a beat when her flashlight illuminated the pale figure of an emaciated woman sitting in the middle of the path several metres ahead, facing the other way. However, before she could turn off the light, the wraith turned her head sharply and stared right into her eyes.

Despite the former college student's numerous encounters with a Witch, this was the first time she had actually gazed directly into her eyes – orange embers that gleamed sinisterly.

_Her eyes are wrong, her eyes are wrong –_

Before anyone could make a move, the growls turned into the most horrible scream ever to reach their ears.

The relative stillness of the night was shattered by a horrifying cacophony of shrill, bone-chilling and blood-curdling screams.


End file.
